


This Comes After Silence

by Gefionne



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Betrothed in childhood, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, married as adults
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-09-18 17:37:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 60,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16999545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gefionne/pseuds/Gefionne
Summary: Kidnapped young by Snoke, Kylo Ren is brought into the First Order and a union with its general’s only son, Armitage, is arranged for when they both come of age. It’s “for the good of the Order” they’re told and they’ll do their duty, but it’s too bad they’ve detested each other most of their lives. But maybe there’s a chance for a good union—if they can see beyond who they think they are.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BanSW](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BanSW/gifts).



> This fic was written at the request of MagicandMalice for their dear friend Ban, for whom I was glad to write. Happy belated Hanukkah! I hope you enjoy the story!
> 
>  
> 
> A note about explicit content: Kylo and Hux start out here as children, but there is nothing explicit until they are both in their 20s.

## Prologue

  _This comes after silence. Was it something I said_  
_that bound me to you, some mere promise  
__or, worse, the fear of loneliness and death?_

_[…]_

_We are more together_  
_than we know, how else could we keep on discovering  
_ _we are more together than we thought?_

“The Country of Marriage,” Wendell Berry

 

**Armitage: Age Eleven**

Getting to leave his afternoon classes at school on the _Argent_ to take an inter-ship transport to the new flagship _Supremacy_ was a special treat. At least that’s what Armitage’s father had told him when he plucked him from his mathematics lesson after lunch. Armitage believed him, though, because he got to leave the _Argent_ , which he hadn’t done since he had come aboard five years ago. It was one of the star destroyers the First Order had kept from the reign of the Empire. Armitage heard the older boys complaining that it was a relic and that they couldn’t wait to be posted elsewhere for their cadet training, but he had never minded it; it was the only real home he remembered. His father told him he came from a planet called Arkanis, but he had only ever seen it on galaxy maps.

The seats in the transport shuttle were too big for him when he and his father went aboard, but he managed to climb up into one and fasten a belt around his waist. The other restraints were too high for him to grab, and they were only going a short distance anyway. The little shuttle trembled as the engines came to life and then they were leaving the _Argent_ ’s port hangar, flying across the starscape to the massive super destroyer that Supreme Leader Snoke had commissioned. If barracks scuttlebutt was to be believed, Snoke had paid for the construction with all the credits he had brought with him to the First Order.

When they landed in one of the _Supremacy_ ’s hangars, Armitage was overcome by the sheer size of it. TIE fighters and expeditionary shuttles were packed into it from bulkhead to bulkhead and hundreds of techs and pilots were flitting around between them. Armitage gaped at the whole operation, stunned. But he didn’t get to linger and watch; his father took him by the shoulders and hurried him into a lift. The doors opened beside a maglev train that had arrived so silently Armitage wouldn’t have known it if he hadn’t seen it. They got aboard and rode for some eight minutes—according to Armitage’s wrist chronometer—until they were ushered into an small transport to take them further on.

As they rode, Armitage’s father took a small box out of his jacket pocket and handed it to him. “You’re to give this to the Supreme Leader’s apprentice when you meet him,” he said.

“What is it?” Armitage asked.

His father had gruffly replied, “Worry about that when we get there.”

Fortunately, it wasn’t long before they did. The transport stopped outside a set of imposing durasteel doors at least eight meters tall. Armitage approached them cautiously as they opened on old-fashioned hinges. Inside was a room in vibrant red, bright as nothing else Armitage had ever seen. Most things in his world were durasteel silver or uniform gray. Even the rations they were bland and colorless. But this place was nothing like that.

Armitage was shoved forward by his father, stumbling a few steps into the room. Six guards, their plassteel armor as red as the walls, stood by. The tips of their bladed weapons glinted in the artificial light of the illuminators somewhere above them.

At the center of everything was an imposing throne where sat a being Armitage didn’t recognize, its spidery fingers curled around the arms of the seat. On the steps leading down from the throne sat a little boy—dressed all in black with dark, shaggy hair. He looked to be about five or six, the age all the children were when they came to schools like those on the _Argent_. But Armitage had never see this boy before, and he definitely wasn’t in uniform.

Armitage’s father stopped a meter or so from the throne, saluting the towering being smartly. “Supreme Leader, I have brought my son for you to appraise, as we agreed.”

The being spoke slow, gravelly Basic in reply: “Very good, General Hux.” Its gaze fell on Armitage and he tried not to shrink under it, even if he was afraid. “You are Armitage Hux,” said the Supreme Leader. “I have been told a great deal about you. The only son of our ranking general. There are great things in store for you, if all the pieces fall into place as they should.”

Armitage didn’t know what, if anything, he was supposed to say, so he remained silent and at attention.

The Supreme Leader turned his gaze down to look at the boy at his feet. To him he said, “My apprentice, stand and make yourself known.”

The boy got to his feet, but his small shoulders stayed hunched and his unkempt hair was falling into his eyes. Armitage thought those eyes were brown, but couldn’t rightly tell from this distance. As if on unsteady legs, the boy toddled down the steps and approached Armitage and his father.

“Greetings, General Hux,” he said, the words clearly rehearsed, “and Armitage, my intended. I am Kylo Ren.”

Armitage’s attention caught on the title he had been given: “intended.” He didn’t know what it meant.

“Introduce yourself, boy,” his father hissed. “Do it _right_.”

Taking one step forward as he would out of line to speak during roll call, he said, “Hello, Kylo Ren. I’m Armitage Hux, student identification number 9478250.”

Kylo Ren wrinkled his pronounced nose in distaste, but said, “Hello.”

Armitage jumped as the Supreme Leader boomed with laughter. “A rather inauspicious beginning for them, isn’t it?” he said. To Armitage’s father: “Did you tell him what this introduction is for?”

Brendol Hux replied, “I thought I would leave that to you, Supreme Leader, as this union was your design.” He said it flatly, like he often did when Armitage was annoying him but had not yet made him angry enough to yell. It usually meant he wasn’t very happy with whatever was going on.

The Supreme Leader rubbed his gnarled chin with a finger. “Then I’ll do that.” He looked first at Armitage. “You have been chosen for a very special future. Your father has served the Order well and will continue to do so for many years. But, in time, he will need a successor. That will be you.”

Armitage puffed out his narrow chest with pride. He had always believed he would be a general, like his father, but this was the first time someone else had said it to him.

The Supreme Leader seemed to approve and continued: “I want to see the military of the First Order truly united with my power when the time comes for new leadership. I have no children to succeed me, but I have chosen a most worthy apprentice. Kylo Ren is already strong with the Force and will make a formidable partner for the Order’s next general.”

Still confused, Armitage cast a glance at Kylo Ren, who was chewing his lower lip, his small hands fisted at his sides.

“You are young now and have much to grow into,” said the Supreme Leader, “but when both of you come of age, you’ll be joined in a formal union and lead the Order together.”

“A what?” Armitage asked tentatively, still unclear.

It was Kylo Ren, in his child’s voice, who replied: “You have to marry me.”

Armitage, wide-eyed, looked between the three others in the room: from his father to the Supreme Leader to Kylo Ren. None but Snoke would meet his gaze. Armitage’s father was married to a woman named Maratelle, whom Hux never saw because she hated him. He was a _bastard_ she said and she wouldn’t have him living in her quarters on the _Argent_. That’s why Armitage slept in the barracks with the children who had no parents aboard. He didn’t like her and it really didn’t seem that his father liked her, either. Armitage had decided, looking at them, that he didn’t want to be married.

Forcing himself to turn back to Kylo Ren, who was small and weak-looking, Armitage hated the idea even more. He was a little more than a baby and Armitage hated the noisy, whining babies in his school cohort. He didn’t want anything to do with him.

“Sir,” he said to his father, “I don’t want to marry him.”

“It’s already been arranged, boy,” said Brendol. “You don’t have a choice. After the requisite years, you’ll be wed.”

Armitage couldn’t help the disappointment, but seeing Snoke’s eager expression and his own father’s resignation, he had to accept it. Holding his chin high and his shoulders square, he said, “As the Supreme Leader commands.”

Snoke clapped his hands, a macabre twist of a smile on his broken face. “Good boy.”

Brendol tapped on Armitage’s shoulder. “The box,” he said.

Armitage still held it in his right hand and, looking down at it now, released the small latch and opened it. Inside was a gold pendant with the insignia of the First Order etched into it. A chain was tucked into the box behind it.

“It’s for him,” said Brendol, urging Armitage on. “Put it on him.”

Steps short and jerky, Armitage approached Kylo Ren, taking the necklace out as he went. The chain was far too long for a child, but Hux held it out and Kylo ducked his head for him to put it over. It caught on his ears, but Armitage got it down around his neck.

Kylo raised his eyes—yes, brown—and said, “Thank you.” Armitage was about to turn away, but Kylo caught him by the hand. “I have a gift for you, too.” Taking something out of the pocket of his trousers, he held it out in his palm.

Armitage saw a gold ring set with red kyber. Like the necklace, it was too big for him, but he took it and held it. “Thank you.”

“Now you have something of each other to hold onto until your union,” said Snoke. “Keep them close as you grow.” He sat back in his throne. “The two of you will be spending several weeks together every galactic standard year, so that you might get to know each other. When Armitage has leave from his classes, I will release Kylo from his own training and you will stay here on this ship to learn about one another. I’m sure you’ll have many stories of your studies to share.”

“Are we finished here, then, Supreme Leader?” Brendol asked. “The boy has work to get back to.”

Snoke nodded. “Take him if you must, but in sixty cycles’ time, he comes back here to be with Kylo.”

Armitage’s discontent burned as he heard his father say, “Of course, Supreme Leader. It is already in order.”

With a salute from both of them, Brendol and Armitage turned on their heels and made their exit from the red room. They boarded the transport again and rode in silence for a few moments.

“This is for the good of the Order, boy,” Brendol told him. “You’ll be where I am someday and that boy will be Supreme Leader. It makes sense for the two of you to guide it together.” He glared down at Armitage. “I’ll not hear any complaints, and none will reach the Supreme Leader, is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” said Armitage.

When they got back to the _Argent_ , Armitage was still holding the kyber ring, and so tightly that it pressed an impression into his hand. He didn’t want any of the other children in the barracks to see it—they had little privacy—but he had a small lockbox set to his biometrics tucked into the bottom of his footlocker. While the others were still in class, he dug it out from beneath his uniforms and opened it. He dropped the too-big ring into it, intending to forget all about it and about Kylo Ren, until he had to meet him again.

 

* * *

  

**Kylo: Age Eight**

If there was any time in the standard year that Kylo hated, it was the two weeks he was required to spend with Armitage Hux. All the rest of the time, he trained with his master and with the other students that Snoke had found to work with him. They were sensitive to the Force, but none of their powers approached his in strength.

Kylo barely remembered the life he had lived before he came to the _Supremacy_ , save for some fuzzy memories of a pretty woman with a lovely voice and long hair and a man with a beat-up starship that Kylo had dreamed of flying. All he knew now was his master and the training and the two terrible weeks every year with his _intended_.

That time had come again and Kylo was standing in the common room they shared when Armitage was aboard, waiting for him. The droids that looked after his quarters had forced him to take a shower and comb his hair and put on his nicest clothes—which were itchy and too tight—before Armitage arrived, as if it was something special. But they were just going to be miserable the whole time; they always had been, even from that first year.

Armitage was five years older than Kylo and he treated him like he was a baby to be minded and not the Supreme Leader’s chosen apprentice. He made no secret of that fact that he thought he had better things to do than talk to Kylo. Back years ago, Kylo had tried to get him to play with some of the AT-AT or star destroyer toys he had, but Armitage had just rolled his eyes and told him that toys were worthless. Kylo had cried then, but now he wouldn’t dare cry in front of Armitage, if only just to prove that he _wasn’t_ a baby. He was eight years old and already stronger and faster than any of the trooper recruits his master put him up against. He was a warrior, no matter what Armitage said.

The necklace that he had been given the day they met had long since been put in a drawer in his quarters, but he still thought of it sometimes when he wished that Armitage wasn’t so mean. Kylo had always thought he was handsome and tall in his uniform and he had wanted to be his friend, but it hadn’t worked out that way. And someday, Kylo would have to marry him. He had been told again and again that it was already arranged, but he still asked his master every year if he would change his mind. Snoke never did; in fact, it seemed amusing to him that Kylo and Armitage didn’t get along. It made Kylo furious, almost as furious as he was when Armitage was around.

As he stood brooding, the door to the common room slid open and Armitage, along with another service droid, appeared at the threshold. He was even taller than he had been last year and he had a new cadet’s cap over his red hair. He had told Kylo before that all the other cadets had gotten to go planetside with some of their instructors and learn to swim during leave, but Armitage had been forced to come to see Kylo. He “detested it,” he had said more than once.

Kylo had just glowered at him and floated the electronics he was working on away with the Force, hiding some of the components so that Armitage got frustrated and huffed around the common room in a futile search for them. Kylo had a whole collection in his quarters, which he had fused into a ball with the Force. He sometimes tossed it above his head before going to sleep just for the satisfaction of it.

“Hello,” Armitage said stiffly, stepping into the room.

“Hi,” said Kylo, equally cold.

“Oh, the two of you,” said the silver protocol droid in an overly cheerful tone. “This can’t be like last year. Surely you can settle your differences and have a good time. In fact, I was thinking we might start with a snack. I could have the kitchen droids send up a cake.”

Armitage scoffed. “Treats are for children. Don’t you have anything worthwhile to do?”

Kylo very much wanted that cake, but he said nothing about it. “What do _you_ want to do, then?” he asked.

“Anything but be here,” Armitage replied. “This is such a waste of time. I could be doing zero-g blaster training right now.”

Kylo snapped, “And I could be honing my power with the Force, not listening to you complain.”

Armitage shot him a dirty look. “Well, well, haven’t you just developed a temper. Do you speak to the Supreme Leader that way?”

“No,” said Kylo. “But he’s not _you_.”

Clicking his tongue, Armitage raised his nose in that haughty way that made Kylo want to hit him. “No, he’s not, but you should talk to me with respect. I’m going to be—”

“‘The general someday,’” Kylo mocked. “I _know_. And I’m going to be Supreme Leader. That makes me better than you. You’ll be taking my orders.”

This never failed to get a rise out of Armitage, who was determined to be in charge of everything, even their time together here. But Kylo refused to do as he said, especially because he said it.

“You think that,” Hux spat, “but my father’s opinion is valued by Snoke. He may do as he’s told at times, but his leadership is always taken seriously. Snoke listens to him.”

“And that means I have to listen to you, right?” Kylo said derisively. “Try to make me.”

The protocol droid interjected before Armitage could counter: “All right, all right, that’s enough. Let’s work on a holopuzzle, shall we?”

Kylo barely suppressed a groan while Armitage grinned. Kylo was terrible at the puzzles and Armitage was very good; it wasn’t supposed to be a competition, but it always was, and Armitage never lost. But maybe Kylo could trip him up with the Force: tickle the back of his neck or give him goosebumps. His master said that someday he would be able to invade minds and take what he wanted. He could use that on Armitage, of that he was sure.

 

****

 

The days after didn’t get any better. They met every morning in the common room for breakfast and while Kylo was used to the food, Armitage always seemed to be overwhelmed by it. The bread and cheese and fruits were too much for his stomach, he said, and he only picked at it before turning away to do other things. Mostly, they were forced to stay in their quarters, but today Kylo’s master had told them that Armitage would watch one of Kylo’s training sessions with the other students. Kylo was determined to show just how powerful he was and maybe make Armitage think twice before he crossed him.

They went together to the training rooms, but parted when Kylo entered the main floor to do his demonstration. Armitage was ushered to the observation deck, where Snoke always kept a careful watch over each bout. He wasn’t there now, though, and yet Kylo could feel his intrusive presence in his mind. He could enter at any time, speaking into Kylo’s thoughts and teaching him the ways of the Force.

He was always told that someday he would be able to wield a lightsaber—the weapon of Force-users—but for now he was too small and too young. He was given a plassteel sword to train with. The other students had a variety of weapons to use, from staves to plassteel knives. Snoke had them all master different arts to make sure Kylo could learn to counter each style. Now, he took up his sword and waited at the center of the training floor for his opponents to appear.

They filed in silently, their boots soft and footfalls muffled. Most days they were barefaced, showing them for the little boys and girls they were, but today they wore black half-face masks. Kylo frowned, unnerved by their appearances. His master had arranged this, but they had never been hidden from him before. He didn’t like it; it made him feel exposed and ganged up on. Still, he forced himself to stay calm, adjusting his grip on the bokken as he waited for the first attack.

The girl with a blunt-tipped spear came at him, lunging across the distance between them with a forceful thrust of her weapon. Kylo slipped around the attack and made contact with her spear, attempting to hit it high to knock it from her hands. She made a kind of yipping sound as she pulled away and began to stalk around him, preparing for another attack.

It took Kylo only two more minutes—he counted steadily in his head while he trained, a kind of bodily metronome to keep himself grounded—to disarm her. He yanked the spear from her hands and used it to sweep her feet out from under her. She hit the mats hard on her back, staying there for a moment to recover her breath before rolling out of the way for Kylo’s next opponent.

The others came at him with their various weapons, but he bested them all. When each of them stood to the side, shoulders slumped in defeat, he was breathing heavily at the center of the floor. Only then did he turn his eyes up to the observation deck, where he saw Armitage looking sternly down at him. Though Kylo couldn’t hear it, he watched him bring his hands together three times in curt applause. Kylo burned with pride.

After the bouts, he was sent into the refresher and given a bath. Armitage had been struck dumb when he had first seen the tub in their shared ‘fresher. He had never had a bath with water, he had said—not that he could remember. Kylo had turned on the tap and, wetting his hand, thrown a palmful at him. Armitage had cursed him, but Kylo knew that secretly he loved water. His baths were always long, and sometimes Kylo had to demand that he let him into the ‘fresher to use the toilet.

Armitage was waiting in the common room when Kylo came out from his bath. He had his datapad in his hands and appeared to be reading, but he did look up as Kylo stepped into the room. “You fight well,” he said simply.

Kylo, standing two meters from him, fought not to turn his eyes down bashfully. Armitage had never paid him a compliment before, and this one was for something he knew he was good at. Fighting was maybe his greatest strength in his training—at least for now. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

Armitage clicked his tongue. “Don’t sound like you’re ashamed of it,” he admonished. “Take credit for what you do right and well.” His tone was sharp. “False modesty gets you nowhere.”

“I’m _not_ ashamed,” Kylo said, anger rising. “Why do you always have to spoil everything? I can’t do anything you think is right.” The anger was turning to hurt, now. “You’re supposed to be my husband someday and you always tell me everything I do wrong.” He stamped his foot, glaring. “What’s wrong with me, huh? _What_?”

He got a steady gaze in response, which only made him more furious, and then: “What do you want to hear, Kylo?” Hux asked. “Do you want me to say I really enjoy these visits and that I think we’re going to be happy together?”

Kylo said nothing, but he thought _Maybe. Yes._

“I’m afraid I don’t,” Armitage said, setting his datapad down. “We’re nothing alike and very little that you do interests me. And you’re”—he wrinkled his nose—“just a boy.”

“Kriff you, Armitage!” Kylo spat, using one of the words he had heard the crewmen use from time to time. He gave him no time to reply, instead stalking into his own bedroom and locking the door.

Kylo jumped into the too-big bed and let the tears come. If Armitage was never going to like him, what kind of life were they supposed to have when they actually had to be together all the time? He was going to hate it. He already hated it. He hated _Armitage_.

 

* * *

 

**Armitage: Age Seventeen**

“It’s _Hux_ ,” he said, looking down at the twelve-year-old boy standing in front of him. Ever since he had started his cadet training, he had insisted the others call him by his surname. It was neater than his first name, which he had never liked—mainly because it was the name his father used for him. And Kylo Ren; Kylo called him Armitage, too.

“You want your rank in there, too?” Kylo said, his voice cracking on the words.

Hux stifled a laugh. He shouldn’t make fun, though; it was only a few years ago that he had been going through the same things: all humiliating. And yet, he said, “It wouldn’t be so bad, no. Cadet Hux sounds good. Try it.”

“No,” said Kylo obstinately. “If that’s what you want than there’s no way I’m doing it.” He crossed his skinny arms over his chest and frowned, looking very much the part of the difficult child.

Stars, Hux had to have drawn the galaxy’s shortest straw to have to be tied to Kylo Ren for the rest of his life. They had been seeing each other like this every standard year for six years and every time Hux was sure it just got worse. Kylo whined and threw things around with the Force—childish fits of temper—and Hux had to tolerate it as if he didn’t want to put the little bastard over his knee and cane him. That’s what he would have gotten in cadet training. But he was spoiled by the Supreme Leader and used to getting whatever he wanted. Hux was the last person to give him that, and it seemed to make him delightfully angry.

“Your spite is very endearing,” Hux said dryly, rolling his eyes.

Kylo was red in the face, fists curled at his sides. Hux knew that he had significant power and could—as he had demonstrated several times—lob hard objects at Hux’s head, but Hux wasn’t afraid of him. This was just pique; he wouldn’t actually hurt anyone.

The duraplas cup Hux had filled with water a few minutes earlier collapsed in on itself, spattering the sitting table with wetness.

“You really have no manners, do you?” Hux said, shaking his head.

Instead of a reply, Kylo warped the cup further, spinning the water up around it in a strangely graceful serpentine. Hux would have been impressed if he wasn’t so annoyed with Kylo’s increasingly moody behavior. They had only been together for three days and already they were at each other’s throats.

 _Eleven more days_ , Hux reminded himself. _Just survive it._

Antagonizing a powerful, if little, Force-user might not of have been best idea for survival, but he was so easy to rile up that Hux couldn’t resist teasing him. And he wasn’t armed. Hux had already been to see one of his combat demonstrations this visit and now he carried a red lightsaber to use against the six other students, who had energy weapons of their own. It was an impressive display, with a great deal of sparks and bright flashes as the blades met. And it was true enough that despite his size and age, Kylo Ren was deadly.

The crumpled remnants of the cup floated above the table, a stream of water suspended around them. Kylo was staring at it, willing it to do as it was, but he hadn’t moved an inch. Finally, he grew tired of the game and let the plas ball and all the water with it crash onto the tabletop. Hux started at the sound.

“Fine, _Hux_ ,” Kylo said, voice back in the childish range again. “It doesn’t matter what I call you, anyway. You’re just another cadet. Nothing special. Not like me.”

Hux’s temper flared at that. He _was_ special. He was the cleverest boy in the cadet corps and he already had command of the practice squadron, which was unprecedented. Most commanders were in their final year, eighteen at least. Hux had outpaced them all and led his training unit to an undefeated record this semester. Their conditioning and results hadn’t escaped the notice of the ranking officers, who often placed bets on the practice skirmishes. Hux had even enjoyed some of the spoils, having been smuggled officers’ rations of rum more than once.

“Come off it, you little bantha,” Hux snapped, “you think you’re so unique and cherished by the Supreme Leader? Just wait until I get my commission and show you what I can do. I’m going to lead the First Order to its ultimate victory.”

Kylo had the audacity to smile at him snidely. “But you’ll never been in charge of me,” he said.

This was a sore spot that the little nightmare loved to worry. While the ranking general of the First Order—right now Hux’s father, Brendol—had command of the army, he had no control over any of the Supreme Leader’s private agents, and his apprentice was one of those. Snoke had made it abundantly clear over the years that while Hux and Kylo would be united, one would never have jurisdiction over the other. He told Brendol that it was a “match on equal terms,” but Hux knew better. One of them would have to win out; neither compromised. Hux wasn’t going to be taking any orders from Kylo, that was for certain.

“Maybe not,” Hux said, “but I will not tolerate this kind of back-and-forth, irritating bickering when we’re together.” He scoffed. “I honestly can’t imagine living with you all the time when you’re like this.”

“Like _what_?” Kylo demanded. He glared up into Hux’s face. “Tell me exactly what you think I’m like, _Hux_.”

“You are an entitled little prick!” Hux said, leveling a finger at him. “You are here solely to vex me, and apparently will only get worse as you get older. You’re insufferable!” He almost disordered his hair by running an hand agitatedly through it, but refrained.

Kylo backed down, if only slightly. “You really hate me, don’t you?” he asked, oddly soft.

Hux paused to breathe before he replied. It wasn’t hate per se, only frustration that compounded until they both reached the breaking point. “No,” he replied carefully. “I don’t hate you. This whole arrangement just doesn’t make sense. You have to know that.”

“I do,” said Kylo. “But we’re stuck with it. I’ve asked my master every year to change his mind—”

“You’ve done _what_?” Hux said. “You wouldn’t dare to counter the Supreme Leader’s word.”

Kylo eyed him with disdain. “Maybe _you_ wouldn’t, but you’re not his chosen apprentice. I can ask questions of him if I want to.” He sniffed. “And I told him I don’t want to marry you.”

Hux wet his lips, hoping he might have just found a way out of this. “And if I also told him I didn’t want the union, would he do away with the idea?”

“No,” said Kylo. “He always tells me it’s already set and that’s the way it will be.”

Hux deflated. “I see.”

“Yeah,” Kylo murmured, eyes averted.

Hux watched him like that for a few seconds, taking in his slight frame but seeing what he would likely grow into. They were both tall, but Kylo would be brawny where Hux was not. Hux had taken his share of beatings from bigger boys in his earlier years, until they had learned that his retaliation was always worse, even if not physical. Hux could see himself at Kylo’s physical mercy in the future, unable to fight both his size and the Force. Kylo had never tried to hit Hux, but the possibility was always there. When he came of age, he would be something to be reckoned with, and maybe then Hux would fear him.

But for now, he was only twelve and barely into puberty. Hux didn’t even want to consider having any kind of physical _anything_ with him, especially not the kinds of things he had been getting up to with his bunkmates in the past couple of years. It disgusted him to even think of doing any of that with the lanky Kylo.

“Look,” Hux said, taking a tentative step toward him, “if there’s no way to change this and we have to marry in the future, then let’s come to an understanding now.”

Kylo looked up, curious.

Hux continued: “We won’t try to be anything more than we are: apprentice and cadet, someday master and general. I won’t fight you if I don’t have to—” A dismissive snort cut him off, but he pressed on: “We’ll be civil, if we can.”

 _Civil_. What an enduringly happy union theirs was going to be.

Kylo shook his dark-haired head. “You know that’s not going to work.”

“It could,” Hux said, “if we tried.”

He got a cool stare. “Are you going to? Or do you just think I’ll stop fighting and you’ll get your way?”

Hux hated to admit that that was exactly what he was hoping for in this truce. He sighed deeply.

“I knew it,” Kylo said, cold. “I can’t trust you with anything. You just want to boss me around.” He scowled. “You won’t. I’d die first.”

Hux barked a laugh. “What do you know about dying? I’d wager you’ve never seen anyone die.”

“Have you?”

“Yes,” said Hux. It had been a cadet in the team opposite theirs in a skirmish. She hadn’t been wearing proper safety gear—having taken off her helmet—and a blaster bolt had struck her in the head. Hux had dreamt of the messy aftermath for weeks, until he had convinced himself that his soldiers would see worse. If they could stand it, so could he.

A dark look passed across Kylo’s face, a shadow that made him seem far older than his years—weary and hollow-eyed. “My master says I have to kill all my ties to the Light,” he said.

Hux didn’t know what that meant.

“I don’t even remember them,” said Kylo, his gaze unfocused and trained somewhere on the carpet. “But he says they keep me from my strength. Leia Organa is her name. Han Solo. Luke Skywalker.” He glanced up. “I’ve only seen them in holos.”

“Those are the ‘heroes’ of the New Republic,” Hux said. “What do they have to do with you?”

Kylo’s face was stony even as he replied, “They’re my family, and I’m going to kill them.”

Hux had fantasized a great deal about killing his father, who treated him like he was of little use, but he had never spoken the desire aloud or even seriously considered a way to do it. But here was a boy, not even a teenager, emotionlessly saying he would commit murder, of his family no less. It was abhorrent, and Hux found it fascinating.

“You’re related to them?” Hux asked.

Kylo gave a solemn nod. “But staying with them would have been a waste of my talents. They would have made me weak. Master Snoke took me in to make sure I’m strong.”

Hux could understand and respect that. Troopers were taken from their own homeworlds and their families to be assimilated into the Order and given training they would never have received as farmers or miners on some backwater planets in the Outer Rim. The Supreme Leader had done the same with Kylo, though he had plucked him, apparently, from the bosom of Republican royalty.

“You must kill them because they keep you tied to the Light Side of the Force?” said Hux.

“Yes,” Kylo replied. “The Light is weakness. The Dark is power.”

Hux inclined his head. “Of course,” he said, though he didn’t know if it was really true or not. He didn’t know anything about the Force. But maybe it was time to learn. “Will you tell me about your training in the Dark Side, then?”

Kylo’s eyebrows rose. “You really want to know about the Force?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” said Hux. Slowly, he went to the common room’s sofa and sat down. He patted the space beside him. “Tell me, Kylo.”

The boy sat and began to talk candidly about a whole realm Hux had never touched or considered. If he was right, and the Dark was power, perhaps it was something Hux could harness and wield. Kylo could be his weapon, his blade on the ground where Hux couldn’t go. If, perhaps, they could stop to agree for a time.

 

* * *

 

**Kylo: Age Sixteen**

Kylo had returned to the suite he was forced to share with Hux two days ago, finding clothes already prepared for him in his wardrobe. His master seemed to look gleefully toward their annual reunion and made a great effort to ensure they had every comfort during their stay together. Hux plainly hated the decadence of it all, apparently living much more simply on his home star destroyer. He had finished his cadet training at eighteen and had already been promoted from sergeant to captain—the youngest, at twenty-two—something he was very quick to remind Kylo of at every opportunity. Kylo was more accustomed to the rich food and soft, colorful clothes he was forced to wear, but he still wished he was in his own quarters with the Knights of Ren around him.

He had given them that name just recently, and they had taken to it with remarkable ease. Kylo’s master had laughed at the melodrama of it, but hadn’t objected. Together, they had been permitted to leave the _Supremacy_ , after many years of living aboard, and went to a small planet with a battalion of stormtroopers to lay waste to a settlement of antagonistic sentients. Many years ago, Hux had accused him of never having seen anyone die, but on that assignment, he cut beings down himself with his saber.

Toward the end of the fight, the kyber crystal inside of it had cracked, overloading the weapon and rendering it useless. Kylo had relied solely on the Force to defend himself and had come out unharmed. He had been warned that guilt would come with the lives he took, but it never had. He had killed enemies of the First Order, not innocents; they deserved what they got for refusing to yield.

“Very impressive,” Hux had said when Kylo had told him about the mission over dinner their first night together. They had been seated alone at the low table, where they both sat on cushions on the floor, and Hux had been cool—unsurprising.

“I know,” Kylo had said smugly. He had been told to take compliments, and he had learned to do it well.

Hux had snorted, but hadn’t called him out on his ego. Probably because his own was even more inflated; he had no room to talk.

Today, they were whiling away the hours in uncomfortable silence, Hux scrolling through his datapad and Kylo fiddling with his saber. It had become a trial to maintain since the crystal had been compromised, but he refused to build a new one; he was fond of his as it was. And the vents he had had to put into the casing to handle the instability of the energy were a special kind of intimidating. He had a few burns to show for the modification, but he was deft with it now.

“How much maintenance can one weapon take?” Hux asked quite suddenly while Kylo was soldering a wire into place.

Kylo kept working, not looking up, but replied, “Enough to keep it in good order.”

“It seems like a waste if it’s so time-consuming to manage it,” said Hux. “A good blaster only needs a cleaning every couple of weeks. You’ve been at that for hours.”

“You don’t know anything about it,” Kylo said sharply. “It’s not simple like a blaster. A lightsaber is the most advanced weapon in the galaxy.”

Hux’s laugh was harsh and loud. “I don’t for a second believe that. Especially not when compared to something like the old Imperial Death Star. Or the weapon I’m working on.”

Kylo did raise his face then, eyeing him. “What is it?” he asked.

“It wouldn’t interest you,” Hux replied, dismissive.

Laying down his soldering iron, Kylo countered, “Tell me about it and let me decide for myself if I’m interested.” Hux still treated him like he was stupid, which was infuriating.

Hux pursed his lips, but then gestured for Kylo to come to him. “I have to show you or you won’t understand.” He held up his datapad to illustrate.

They barely ever got within a meter of each other, but Kylo figured it would be all right. Standing from his place at the table, he joined Hux on the sofa, the cushion dipping under his weight.

On the screen of the datapad was an intricately designed schematic of what looked like a planet, though it was filled with corridors and massive storage chambers for something Kylo didn’t recognize.

“What is it, then?” he asked to hurry Hux along.

Hux shot him a sidelong look. “I call it the Starkiller. It’s meant to harness the power of a sun to destroy whole systems in one shot.”

Kylo raised his eyebrows skeptically. “Seriously? Sounds like you made that up.”

“I _did_ make it up,” Hux grumbled. “I designed it. I’ve been working on it for years. I studied the Death Star and other energy weapons—like your lightsaber—and put together something that can do far more damage.” He tapped the screen and the view exploded into its constituent parts. “See the heart of kyber? I understand more about your little sword than you think.”

Leaning in to consider the schematic, Kylo had to concede that Hux was a keen engineer. “You really think you could build this?”

“Given the proper resources,” Hux said, “absolutely.” He shifted in his seat, seemingly uncertain. “I hope to bring it to the Supreme Leader when it’s finished.”

“Directly to Snoke?” Kylo asked.

Hux gave a curt nod. “I don’t want to go through the chain of command. This is _my idea_ and it will remain that way. Do you think…” He chewed his cheek. “Do you think you could arrange an audience?”

Kylo balked, stunned that Hux would deign to ask for his help. “Me?”

“Yes,” Hux said. “I just said that.”

It was possible, Kylo thought. His master would probably hear Hux out if Kylo asked him to. It might suggest that they were starting to get along better, which Snoke would want.

“What will you do for me in return?” he said.

That earned him a glare. “Of course you’d want something from me. Fine. Name your price.”

The first thought that came to him was something that had been lingering at the back of his mind for the past few years: contact. The Knights wouldn’t dare touch him outside of grappling training, leaving him without anyone to even so much as brush his hand. The personnel around his age aboard ship were too frightened of him to consider approaching, but he had caught some of them in illicit embraces in hidden corners and nooks. There was the holonet, too, which he had gotten very well acquainted with since he had discovered the needs of his body. He craved someone else’s hands on him, even for just a short while.

Hux wasn’t the kind of beautiful man that Kylo was drawn to on the holonet or conjured in his fantasies, but he wasn’t ugly and he was here. They were supposed to be married in a few years and with that came the physical aspects—at least Kylo thought so. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that they should get to used to that now.

“Kiss me,” Kylo said at last. “For a while.”

Hux wore his shock plainly, mouth hanging open and eyes wide. “ _What_?” he managed to say.

Kylo could feel the heat in his face, but he refused to look away. “You heard me.”

“I did,” Hux said, “but you’re...you. I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” Kylo demanded, icy. “You’re going to have to do it sometime. Might as well be today.”

Hux swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You’re serious about this? That’s what you want in exchange for my audience? You swear you’ll do it if I...do this?”

“I swear,” said Kylo. “I’ll go to him right away, if you want. Just...kiss me for a little while. You’ve done it before, right?”

“Of course I have,” Hux said. “But with people my own age. You’re so young, Kylo.”

Kylo scoffed. “ _That’s_ the problem? You still think I’m a little kid.” He pushed a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I’m not asking you to do anything else. It’s just a kiss. It can’t be that bad.”

Hux still seemed distressed, but he said, “You said ‘for a while.’ What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” Kylo said. “Five minutes?”

“ _No_ ,” Hux said stridently. “One kiss. That’s all. Anything else would be...inappropriate.”

Kylo sighed. It was better than nothing. “Okay, fine. Just make it worth my time. And the Supreme Leader’s time for your audience.”

Now Hux was the one blushing. “ _Kriff me_ ,” he mumbled. “All right.”

He turned to face Kylo, their knees bumping. His expression was apprehensive, even fearful, but he raised his right hand and put it against Kylo’s cheek. The light touch sent a shiver down Kylo’s back. Hux leaned in, eyes open and very green, and pressed his lips to Kylo’s. Kylo all but trembled at the contact, finding Hux’s lips soft and full. He leaned into Hux’s hand and pressed his mouth closer, harder.

Hux made to withdraw at Kylo’s insistence, but Kylo grabbed the back of his head and kept him in place. He made a distressed sound, though he stayed and gently moved his lips to bring something more into the kiss. Kylo took it right away, and, recalling all of the holos, opened his mouth and dared to brush Hux’s lower lip with his tongue.

This time Hux shoved Kylo away with two strong hands against his chest. “ _Absolutely not_ ,” he said. “You got what you wanted. That’s enough.”

Kylo’s heart was beating fast and loud, making it hard for him to hear, but the disappointment was acute. “Coward,” he spat.

Hux glared. “Watch yourself.”

“I’m not going to go running to Snoke saying that you took advantage of me or something,” Kylo said, his annoyance tinged with the beginnings of desire. “I asked for this. Don’t be an asshole about it.”

“Whether or not you asked for it,” Hux said, “you need to find someone your own age. I don’t _want_ to kiss you.”

Kylo sat back against the sofa, crossing his arms petulantly. “There’s no one! Nobody will lay a hand on me. You’re going to have to some—”

“Yes, _someday_ ,” Hux snarled. “When you’re grown and not”—he gestured to all of him—“this.”

“You think I’m ugly,” Kylo said, wounded quite abruptly.

Hux rubbed his face, distraught. “I’ve never once looked at you like that, Kylo. Yes, we’re supposed to be intimate in the future, but not at this point. Please do not ask me to go any further than we already have.”

Kylo pinched his eyes closed, defeated, but said, “Okay. I’ll ask Snoke to see you.”

Hux got up from the sofa and snatched his datapad up. “Not today,” he said. “I need to finish some things before I present Starkiller to him. Give me until the end of the week.”

“Sure,” Kylo muttered flatly. “Whatever you want.”

When Hux turned to him, Kylo saw genuine regret in his face. “I’m sorry I can’t give you what you need right now,” he said. “There will be a time for it when you’re older. But it can’t happen now.” He exhaled, long and slow. “If I were to arrange a meeting with one of the cadets—someone who was willing to teach you a few things and is your age—would you accept that?”

Kylo blinked at him, surprised. “You know someone on the _Supremacy_?”

“Not at the moment,” said Hux, “but it’s possible to make some connections and open...negotiations. I’m willing to do that for you in exchange for my audience with the Supreme Leader. Do you accept?”

Standing from the sofa, Kylo approached him and offered his hand. “I accept, yes.”

 

****

 

After Hux had had his audience and returned to his ship two weeks later, Kylo was sitting in meditation in his quarters when the buzzer on his door sounded, alerting him that someone was seeking entry. No one ever came to see him. Still, he got up and went to the door. Outside was a smartly dressed young man with close-cropped brown hair and sharp blue eyes.

“Captain Hux sent me,” he said without preamble. “Will I do?”

Kylo gave him a blatant once-over, nervous, and then nodded. He stepped back inside to let the cadet enter. He shut the door behind them.

 

* * *

 

**Armitage: Age Twenty-Six**

Word of the Starkiller project never got to Brendol Hux, but his son had been working on its design and implementation since his meeting with the Supreme Leader five years before. Hux had selected a planet and thanks to a workforce of miners in the employ of the First Order, it was being hollowed out to make space for the inner workings of the weapon. It had taken years, of course, but it was nearing completion and then the construction of the base would start in earnest. Hux cherished the project and spent all of his free time on it—little as that was around the Stormtrooper Program, which he had taken over as administrator since his promotion to colonel.

His soldiers were exemplary and conditioned from birth to be loyal and capable. It was a fighting force the likes of which the galaxy had never seen, even with the clones under the Empire. His work had long ago surpassed his father’s and would soon totally eclipse it. Hux was looking forward to the day when Brendol would be relieved of duty and Hux was put into his place as ranking general of the Order. It was so near, he could taste it.

However, he had been pulled from his duties again these next two weeks for his prescribed time with Kylo Ren. It was a rude interruption of his routine, and though he had Captain Phasma to oversee operations in his absence, he still couldn’t help but dwell on what he was missing while he sat idly on the _Supremacy_ and held stilted conversations with Snoke’s socially inept apprentice.

Ren, as Hux had taken to calling him in the past few years, was now twenty-one and quite grown into his shape. Hux was made to watch his training bouts still during their time together and it was undeniable that he was frighteningly good with his lightsaber and at hand-to-hand combat. Gone was the skinny boy with whom he had spent his youth; Ren was very much a man.

Occasionally, Hux thought back to the terribly awkward kiss they shared five years ago, and he couldn’t help but feel dirty. But now the prospect wasn’t so abhorrent, even if they hadn’t even shaken hands since they their “holiday” had started. Ren had unusual features—high jaw but a soft chin; long, prominent nose; deep-set eyes; large ears—but it all came together in a flattering whole. He now often had a shadow of a beard on his cheeks by the end of the day and the width of his shoulders and chest was nothing short of intimidating.

Nothing had ever been said between them about Cadet Ullens, whom Hux had sent to Ren to teach him the ropes of barracks relations, but Hux had managed to get a report from him every so often about how things were going. Ren had grown fairly attached to him over the few months of their affair and had been sorry to see him go when he was transferred to another ship—at least that’s what Ullens had told Hux.

“He’s a quick study,” the cadet had said back then in a holo message report. “And very enthusiastic.”

Hux had insisted that he stop right there, but he was relieved to know that Ren had managed to get something out of the arrangement. What had happened after Ullens, Hux didn’t know, but Ren had never approached him about a replacement, so Hux assumed he took care of that himself by now.

Hux had had his own share of lovers aboard ship, but never anything lasting and certainly nothing that involved more than a friendly agreement to bed each other and then leave. After all, he had been told nearly all his life that he could form no attachments; instead he had to save himself for his union. “Save himself” was a relative term, one that Ren took the same way—presumably.

So far today, Ren had been locked away in his bedroom meditating, which he did every morning for several hours, leaving Hux to eat breakfast alone and then find a way to kill time until he appeared. Sometimes, Hux would just read or go over modifications for Starkiller or run simulations of troop movements and others he would take long baths in the ‘fresher. That was the only perk of these visits: bathing water. The sonics could never compare.

Hux was sitting on the sofa—the same one that had been in the suite for fifteen years—looking over the roster for the UT troopers when Ren finally appeared. His non-regulation long hair was tied up in a tail, baring his ears and long neck, and he wore only a pair of loose-fitting sleep pants. His feet and chest were bare. Hux couldn’t help but look. Thankfully, Ren didn’t seem to notice.

“I’m starving,” he said, dropping down onto the cushions by the table.

Even though it was after ten-hundred hours, the droids hadn’t yet cleared away the breakfast dishes—at Hux’s request. He had learned that Ren could put away food like no one else he had ever known and seemed to be especially hungry in the mornings.

Ren grabbed a flaky pastry and bit into it savagely, tearing the delicate bread and raining crumbs down onto the table. Hux rolled his eyes. He had never developed manners.

“How was your meditation this morning?” Hux asked, ever-polite and unwilling to totally ignore him.

“Fine,” Ren replied around his mouthful of pastry. “Not much is different any given day. It’s just a centering exercise. Have you ever meditated?”

Hux shook his head. “I don’t have the time to sit in silence and ‘center.’ Some of us have duties to attend to.”

“You’re always saying that,” said Ren. “Do you ever take any time to relax?”

“When I sleep I’m relaxed,” Hux replied.

Ren huffed. “That doesn’t count. You seriously work _all the time_?”

“Not right now, I don’t,” Hux grumbled. “Perhaps you can consider this my relaxation time for the year.”

Truly, he didn’t need a great number of breaks from his responsibilities. He enjoyed his work and thrived on it.

“You hate it here,” said Ren, cocking an eyebrow as he poured a cup of tea. It had to be cold by now. “What kind of relaxation is that?”

Hux shot him a glance over his datapad, in no mood for any of this. “What does it matter to you?” he asked.

Ren shrugged. “Just curious. You’re so uptight. You should really work out some of that tension. Maybe I could take you to the gym while we’re here.”

“Stars spare me from that,” Hux said. “The last thing I want to do is get disgustingly sweaty while you lift your bodyweight just to show off.”

Ren chuckled. “I don’t need to impress you with that. You’re already impressed.” His smile was far too knowing. “I’ve seen you looking at me when you think I’m not paying attention.”

“I do no such thing,” Hux said, too quickly.

“Liar,” said Ren, still amused. “You like it now that I’m all grown up. You think I can’t read you, but I can. I’ve known you my entire life; I know your tells.”

Hux hated to think that that was true, but it probably was. His father could always read him, too, no matter how well he had learned to guard his expressions. He would have to be more careful when it came to Ren. He didn’t want to give him the idea that Hux was admiring him with a purpose.

“And what of it?” he said sharply.

Ren rubbed a bit of jam away from the corner of his mouth. “It might be ‘someday’ now, don’t you think?”

Hux’s eyes went wide. This was a proposition, and a very blunt one. He never would have expected that from Kylo Ren, but deep in him somewhere, Hux was intrigued. It had been a while and there was a very impressive man on offer. But sleeping with Ren at this point seemed wrong—not that they weren’t put into this shared suite with the implication that they could do what they wanted. Hux was fairly sure the Supreme Leader would have been very pleased if they went ahead and just got it over with.

But despite his appealing qualities—mostly physical—Ren was still difficult and stubborn and always tended to find all the possible ways to make Hux angry with him. They never went a day together with sniping about something or other, whether it was petty things like how Ren left the pillows on the sofa a mess and how Hux took too long in the ‘fresher or more substantive arguments about resources in the Order or operations that Hux had been surprised Kylo even knew about. Despite years of being thrown together, they still disliked each other.

“You presume too much,” Hux said, in a tone of warning.

Ren groaned, dropping his head back melodramatically. “Of course you would say that. I bet you don’t even _have_ sex, do you? No time in your precious schedule.”

Hux actually _didn’t_ most days. He used to, when he was still a captain, but he hadn’t actually had someone in his bed in almost ten standard months.

“It isn’t about that,” he said. “And yes, I certainly do, but just not with you.”

“Why not me?” asked Ren, peering across the table at him. “It’s got to happen eventually.”

“There are no expectations of conjugal relations in a civil union in the First Order, actually,” Hux said. He had looked it up once after two officers aboard the _Argent_ had chosen to marry. “Especially when the union is between two people who can’t biologically reproduce. There’s no question of children or bloodline. All of that is archaic nonsense.”

Ren sobered considerably. “So, you never plan to sleep with me,” he said. “Ever.”

Hux paused to consider. They were to be co-commanders of the Order in the future, their union a symbolic one more than anything. Perhaps the Supreme Leader hoped that affection would have blossomed between them and their marriage would be a happy one, but after so much time antagonizing each other it seemed unlikely. Sex always complicated things, and they would be forced to work together in perpetuity. It would, in all probability, be easier if they kept it out of their relationship completely.

Hux asked, “Does that disappoint you?”

Ren blinked thoughtfully at him before replying, “It doesn’t really surprise me. I thought that maybe—” He shook his head. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

He rose and made to turn away, likely to return to sulking in his room alone. Hux tried to think of something to say to make him see that this was the right decision for them, but nothing came to mind. He watched in silence as Ren disappeared into his bedroom and closed the door.

Hux pinched the bridge of his nose, annoyed with himself and with Ren. All those years ago, when they had kissed, he thought it just a request of convenience: Hux was there and Ren had wanted a kiss; it made sense to ask him. Had it, though, been made out of genuine interest? Hux hadn’t considered that despite their constant disagreements that Ren might actually be attracted to him. It wasn’t as if Hux was indifferent to Ren, after all. Perhaps that went both ways.

Stars, that was less than ideal. They needed to keep to their goals and to the good management of the Order; their own desires were almost irrelevant. But living like that with a spouse wasn’t going to be easy—even Hux knew that. They could always take separate lovers, but that only brought more complications than just sleeping with each other would. Again, after times uncounted, Hux wondered why he had been condemned to a life bound to Ren.


	2. Act I

## Act I

**Kylo**

Treasures of both the Jedi and the Sith had been lost in the Jedi Purge a generation ago, but Kylo’s long search for remnants had yielded invaluable holocrons, which he kept under triple biometric locks in his private quarters on the _Supremacy_. The most recent one he had found came from a hidden world in the Mid Rim, where a race of sentients had been holding it as a holy artifact in their city’s temple. Kylo hadn’t had to kill them to get it, but he did have to demonstrate that he could use it. None of the creatures on the planet could; they didn’t have the Force. When Kylo opened the holocron in front of them, they permitted him to take it, deeming him some kind of messenger of their deity.

He had returned with it to the _Supremacy_ and had been examining it over the past few days. Now, the pyramid of transparisteel—with metal mechanics inside—was sitting on his desk. A projection of a long-dead Sith master recounted cherished knowledge of the Dark Side in an archaic variant of Aqualish, which even the advanced translation program Kylo was running struggled to decipher.

Annoyed at the broken jumble of words he was getting, Kylo sealed the holocron again, ending the projection. He stared down at the transcribed Aurebesh on his console. He only had so much patience for this in a day, and for now it was used up. He needed to get out of his quarters and move.

Taking the holocron and setting it into its place in his cabinet, he sealed the door and locked it. No one came into his space but the cleaning droids; however the three holocrons he had were worth two million credits each on the open market and even more to him. The kind of knowledge lost both in the Purge and the subsequent fall of the Sith was irreplaceable. Some of what he had found even his master didn’t know of.

Though he would be punished if Snoke discovered his deception, Kylo kept aspects of the teachings secret from him. Snoke had raised him for most of his life and made him stronger than he ever thought possible, but there was a part of him that selfishly yearned to surpass him. When the Sith of old did so, they slew their former masters and took their places in the galaxy. Kylo was to be Supreme Leader of the First Order when Snoke eventually died, but in a locked-away part of Kylo’s mind, he considered hastening that ascent to power.

For the moment, he put it out of his mind. He was only twenty-three and had more to learn before he was ready to take Snoke’s place.

His training boots stood by the end of bed, and he sat down at the edge to put them on while he commed down to three of his Knights to join him in the training rooms. Avath and Sarin were twins, both lethal with bladed weapons. They fought in uncanny tandem, posing a greater challenge for Kylo than some of the other Knights. Kaveri he summoned, too. She used a staff and had stamina enough to face Kylo until his whole body was screaming for rest. He sought her out when his nervous energy was at its highest.

In the years that they had been training together, they had learned each other’s tactics inside and out, but they never failed to keep pushing each other. They deferred to Kylo and he didn’t consider them friends—acolytes, rather—yet they shared a camaraderie in their skills in combat and with the Force.

Kylo had no friends aboard the _Supremacy_ and he never had. His solitude was self-imposed; he trained alone with Snoke for long periods and left the ship often in the company of the Knights, neither of which lent themselves to forming attachments. Time might have been made, but he had interaction enough in his training. He didn’t mind isolation when he had so much of the Force and its secrets to unravel.

Avath, Sarin, and Kaveri were already in the training room when Kylo arrived, striking in their black garments. Unlike when they were on a mission, they did not wear their masks. Kylo left his off, too, using it only for combat.

“Master,” Avath said, pausing in a stretch to incline his head in greeting.

Kylo didn’t bother to reply. He only engaged the lightsaber he had brought from his quarters and stood at the ready. The Knights needed no direction; they knew their roles in this fight.

They sparred for a grueling hour, Kylo at the center of it all—target for all three of them. He was sweat-damp, breathing hard, and about to lunge into another attack when he felt the twinge of another presence in his mind.

“Stop!” he called to the Knights. They backed away immediately, weapons and gazes lowered. He thought into the connection he shared with Snoke: _Master, you wish to speak to me?_

_I wish to see you, my apprentice_ , Snoke said. _Come to my chambers._ As quickly as he had come, he withdrew from Kylo’s head.

“We’re done for today,” Kylo said, powering down his saber. The red light that bathed the dark mats on the floor disappeared. With shallow bows, the Knights retreated.

Kylo went to the sonic facilities attached to the training room to swiftly clean up and dress in something clean. He wasn’t often permitted in his master’s private quarters, and being told to meet him there didn’t bode well. But Kylo could think of nothing he had done wrong in the past few days. Maybe it was just Snoke wanting to hear about the new holocron. Kylo would have to disappoint him with his report that the translation was going badly.

Snoke was reclining on a divan when Kylo was shown into his rooms by the Praetorian guards. He wore loose purple robes and was sipping from a silver cup. “My apprentice,” he said slowly. “You took your time coming.”

Kylo sank to one knee, ducking his head. “Forgive me, Master. I didn’t want to come to you sullied from training.”

“A minor transgression I won’t hold against you,” Snoke said, as if it was benevolent. Kylo knew it was a warning not to do it again. “How was your training?”

“Successful, Master,” Kylo replied. “Avath and Sarin are keen as ever, and Kaveri still fights as if she can’t tire. They did well today.”

Snoke rubbed his cratered chin. “Yes, very good. You have all come so very far since I brought you here as a children. You’ve grown into warriors without match.”

Kylo curled his hand into a fist and thumped it against his chest. “Thank you, Master. It’s you who’ve made us worthy.”

“Don’t discredit your own efforts, Kylo Ren,” Snoke chided. “Your mission to recover yet another Sith holocron was a successful one. What have you learned of it?”

“Little,” said Kylo. “The dialect is hard to understand, but I’ll get it. I’m not collecting them just for decoration.”

Snoke laughed. “No, you are not. But you’ll need to put your work on hold for a time.”

Kylo peered up at him. “Why, Master?”

Snoke’s reply answered nothing: “Do you know what today is, my apprentice?”

It was a day like any other as far as Kylo was aware. “No, Master,” he said. “Tell me.”

Snoke set down his cup with a ringing of metal on transparisteel and gave Kylo a ghastly smile. “Seventeen years ago today you were introduced to your intended, Colonel Hux.”

Kylo had to fight to keep himself from scowling. “I don’t mark that date, Master,” he said icily. “But you do?”

“Of course,” said Snoke. “It was an important day.” He eyed Kylo. “Though you don’t think so. You don’t care for Armitage.”

“You know his faults, Master,” Kylo said. “I’ve given to them you more than once over the years.”

Snoke’s expression darkened. “His strengths as a military mind far outweigh your objections to his personality, Kylo Ren. He’s perfectly suited to be general of the First Order when his father can no longer serve. He’ll have great influence, which, when united with your power, will make the Order unstoppable.” He pointed a gnarled finger at Kylo. “The two of you will be one for the good of us all. I will not compromise my legacy by letting this chance slip away.”

It was a tired refrain that Kylo had heard for years. The only way to avoid hearing more about it was to concede.

“Of course, Master,” he said. “I will do as you command.”

Snoke leaned in closer, though he was still meters away from Kylo’s place on the plushly carpeted floor. “Good, because you will be married tomorrow.”

“ _What_?” Kylo said, almost a cry, before he could check himself. Wincing, he tried to temper it with: “Tomorrow is so soon, Master. I haven’t had any time to...prepare.”

“You’ve had seventeen years to prepare,” Snoke rumbled.

Kylo did his best to control his rising panic. Marrying Hux had been an abstract concept for so long that being blindsided with having to do it so suddenly upended his world. He hadn’t even seen Hux since last year, when they had spent most of their two weeks arguing over anything and everything. Kylo had long since given up on trying to establish any kind of truce, and he had certainly never brought up sex again after that time two years ago when Hux had resolutely declared that he would never actually sleep with him.

That had stung in a way Kylo hadn’t anticipated. He had learned from the cadet Hux had sent—Derrin Ullens—the rudiments of sex, and since he had taken enough shore leaves to learn even more. He had thought it was in preparation for Hux, who had proposed the whole idea to begin with. Kylo had assumed Hux wanted him to be more experienced—and older—before they shared a bed, but apparently that wasn’t the case. He had no interest in Kylo whatsoever, and had told him in no uncertain terms that they should keep their relationship chaste.

Their union was going to be as much a disaster as all of their visits together had been, and Kylo had been quietly dreading it for all of those seventeen years. Now, though, it was coming to a head and he had no way out.

“Does Hux know about this?” he asked.

“He was told when he was assigned to the new destroyer, the _Finalizer_ , by his father,” Snoke replied.

Kylo cried, “That was three months ago! Why did you wait to tell me and not him?”

Snoke frowned. “Because I knew you would react this way,” he said. “For all I’ve done to bring you two together, you continue to fight me.” Extending a hand, he curled the Force around Kylo’s chest, constricting. “You’ll do as you’re told and take Armitage as your husband.”

Kylo nodded, unable to speak, and nearly collapsed when Snoke released him. “Yes, Master,” he said. “As you wish.” He paused, but then asked, “Is Hux coming aboard for...the ceremony?”

“Yes,” his master told him. “You will be joined in the room where you met.”

“Will there be many people there?” Kylo pressed. He hated to think of scores of eyes trained on him while he stood next to Hux and vowed to care for and be true to him.

Snoke shook his head. “There are too many who would have wanted to attend to summon them all to be there. It was decided that only I and General Brendol Hux would serve as officiants and witnesses. I presume you would prefer that, too.”

Kylo nodded. “Yes, Master.”

“Good.” Snoke sat back and steepled his long fingers. “After you are married, you will go to the _Finalizer_ with Armitage. The two of you will command it together, now. It is time you had space from me and this ship. You have your own tasks and you are ready to be turned loose on the galaxy.”

The triumph of the victory was tainted by the marriage, but still bright. “Thank you, Master. I won’t disappoint you.”

Snoke smiled with the fatherly condescension he so often wore when he gave Kylo his orders. It was colored, too, with sly pleasure at the culmination of all his carefully laid plans. “No. I’m certain you won’t. Now, go and pack your things. They will be taken to your ship tomorrow while you are preparing for the ceremony.”

Kylo got slowly to his feet again, hearing the dismissal for what it was, but Snoke continued: “I have arranged for clothes and for droids to attend you.”

“I don’t need help getting dressed,” Kylo said, too curtly.

Snoke sent a sharp spike of pain directly into Kylo’s mind. “You’ll speak with respect, my apprentice. And you’ll accept the droids. You need to look the part in your ceremony. They’ll make sure you do. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Master,” said Kylo as the pain abated.

From there, he did as he was bid: he returned to his quarters, finding four large plassteel trunks waiting for him. His quarters were filled with objects he had collected on his travels through the galaxy since he had been permitted to the leave the _Supremacy_ at sixteen. Elaborate, three-tiered windchimes from Lyrida hung from the center of the ceiling, even if they never rang but for when Kylo struck them lightly. The three shelves above his desk were filled with charms and figures from other planets, some given willingly and others taken by force. He had iridescent shells from Ikorr’s seemingly endless beaches, semi-precious stones still rough and set in the rock from Tepin IV, countless things that gave color to an otherwise empty and plain standard sleeping quarters. Kylo wasn’t sure how he was going to pack it all.

Brushing the lowest tubes of the windchimes, he stood looking at the space he had occupied since he was a boy. He wanted the command on the _Finalizer_ , but it did mean giving up this place and the life he had known to start a new one with Hux. If only they could just be co-commanders, without the vows. He knew that hope was worthless; he had no choice but to accept what was to come.

He used the Force to still the chimes and unhook them from their place in the ceiling, lowering them down into his hands to place into one of the trunks. The other things followed in a steady stream, until the shelves and closets were bare. There wasn’t even a layer of dust to leave voids where the objects had stood.

Kylo was removing flimsi and discarded wires and a broken soldering iron from a drawer in his desk when he caught a glint of gold. Brow creased, he reached into the drawer and hooked his fingers around a golden chain. From it hung the pendant with the symbol of the First Order etched onto it that Hux had put around his neck on the day they had met. Kylo hadn’t thought about it in years.

He was sure Hux hadn’t picked it, just as Kylo hadn’t chosen the kyber ring he had been required to present to _Armitage_ that day. As far as he knew, neither of them ever wore their gifts—and maybe because they were a reminder of the union they would have to forge someday.

_Someday_. No, it was tomorrow.

Holding the pendant up to look at it, Kylo flicked it with his finger, making the tip sting. If there was ever a time to wear it, it was now. Undoing the clasp, he put it around his neck and let it hang down on his chest.

 

****

 

The droids that appeared in Kylo’s barren quarters the next morning brought a set of ostentatious clothes for the wedding that Kylo refused to wear. The humanoid droid fretted and told him it had been the Supreme Leader’s choice, but Kylo wouldn’t relent. The only part of the ridiculous ensemble he chose was the long black cape, which he wore over a better pair of his trousers and a ribbed shirt and leather belt. He wore his training boots because they were quiet and comfortable and familiar.

He had been forced to endure overly happy commentary on the wonders of weddings while the droids flitted around him, trimming his nails and buffing them, combing and styling his hair so that it came up wavy and full—far more so than he cared to do by himself. Delicate cuffs of beaten gold were put around the shells of his ears and a circlet to match was set on his head. Upon seeing the pendant around his neck, the humanoid dresser droid had insisted that he wear it openly, over his clothes.

“It was a gift from your husband-to-be?” the droid had asked. “You must show him you’re wearing it, Master Ren, really!”

So, he did. It hung around his neck and the high collar of his shirt.

Dressed and coiffed, he stood looking at himself in the mirror in the refresher. With the jewelry and cape, he felt strange and too noticeable, but he wasn’t ever unseen when he was stalking around the _Supremacy_. Everyone knew who he was and knew to stay clear of him. It would be different on the _Finalizer_ , but he’d arrange it so that they all learned their places soon enough. Except Hux. He _should_ learn his place at Kylo’s feet, but Kylo wasn’t yet Supreme Leader. They were to share command of the new ship, but they were never going to be on truly equal footing, at least not in Kylo’s eyes.

“Master Ren,” called the droid from the main room, “it’s time to go.”

Leaving his unusual reflection behind, Kylo left his quarters for a last time and met a private transport that would take him to Snoke’s throne room.

As he rode, the was restless, rubbing clammy hands over the fabric of his trousers or reaching up to touch his hair before abruptly stopping before he could ruin the style. He fidgeted even as the transport stopped at his destination. His nerves were running high and he felt out of place in his own body, as if this were happening to someone else. The doors of the throne room were open, revealing a yawning red maw beyond. Kylo had never feared that room or its imposing guards, but now he could barely will himself to move. When the driver of the transport opened the door, though, he had no choice but to step out.

Inside, Snoke was seated on his throne, his gold robes glinting in the warm light of the illuminators. To his side stood General Brendol Hux, looking greyer and fatter than when Kylo had last seen him. Near the center of the room was Hux, turned out in a full dress uniform with red epaulets and a number of brass medals over his heart. His hair was orange in contrast to the deep red around him, and he wore a steely expression. His gloved hands were tucked at parade rest behind his back.

Unable to do anything else, Kylo began his journey across the room. He heard the doors shut behind him, sealing him in and offering no egress. Steadily, he walked, until he came to a stop beside Hux. Hux said nothing to him and his expression didn’t change. Instead, he turned his attention to Snoke, who was looking very pleased.

“At last,” Snoke said, “this day has come. Are they not fine together, Brendol?”

General Hux replied gruffly, “Yes, Supreme Leader.”

Kylo shifted uncomfortably, feeling Brendol’s scrutiny and—if he wasn’t mistaken—displeasure. He didn’t approve of the match any more than Kylo and Hux did, it seemed. Snoke was the only one who wanted this to happen. Kylo managed not to grimace, but barely.

“Well,” said Snoke, “let’s have it done, then.” He opened his hands wide, inviting. “Kylo Ren, take Colonel Hux’s hand and hold it in yours.”

Hux lifted his hand and held it out expectantly. His gloves were leather, as were Kylo’s, and they creaked together as Kylo curled his fingers around Hux’s. Even when they touched for the first time in years, it wasn’t even skin-on-skin. That suited them.

“This union,” Snoke began, “was decided upon long ago and will culminate now in this formal joining. The rite is a simple one: you will pledge to honor and commit to one another, forsaking all others, and to serve the First Order above all. What say you, Armitage Hux?”

Hux said, his voice tight, “I pledge to honor and commit to Kylo Ren, forsaking all others, and to serve the First Order above all.”

“And you, Kylo Ren?” Snoke said.

The words sounded distant and strange, but Kylo managed to say them: “I pledge to honor and commit to Armitage Hux, forsaking all others, and to serve the First Order above all.”

Snoke’s smile was as macabre as ever. “Join both of your hands and exchange a kiss to seal the promise.”

Kylo turned to face Hux, holing out his left hand. Hux took it and looked at him properly at last. There was dismay in his eyes, Kylo could see, which he could surely make out in Kylo’s, too. Neither of them was afraid, but there was no joy in this.

Hux was the first to lean across the distance between them, his round chin tipped up to offer his lips. Kylo moved in and gently kissed them. It was barely more than a brush of mouths before Hux was pulling away, dropping Kylo’s hands and averting his gaze. Kylo turned back to Snoke.

“Then it is done,” Snoke said with deep resonance. “Go now to your new command and serve us well.”

The abruptness of it left Kylo feeling oddly as if nothing had changed, and yet he was expected to walk at Hux’s side out of the throne room and to the waiting transport. They said nothing as they went, both of them looking straight ahead without so much as a glance toward the other. If ever there was a bellwether for what the future held for them, that was it: side-by-side but unwilling to acknowledge each other. Dread pooled in Kylo’s stomach as he imagined the rest of his life spent in chilly indifference.

Hux went into the transport first, settling himself as far from Kylo as possible, all but wedged into a corner. Kylo took the bench seat opposite him, although he kept to the side nearest the door to preserve the scant half meter between them. They still did not speak as the transport sped along toward the designated hangar where a shuttle waited to take them to the _Finalizer_.

Kylo had seen holos and designs for the new ship, but it wasn’t until they were out of the _Supremacy_ and flying the short distance to where she was waiting that he could really appreciate her beauty. She had the design of an old Imperial destroyer, but she was bigger and better armed. Thousands of stormtroopers and crew would be aboard: a hive of industrious day-to-day work. The _Finalizer_ was the kind of ship he deserved.

When the shuttle landed and its doors were opened, Kylo saw that twenty or so officers were gathered in the hangar to meet it. He had never seen any of them, but they saluted Hux and a captain greeted him by name. She was in full silver armor save for her helmet, which she carried under her arm. Her white-blond hair was bright, her blue eyes keen. She had a strong jaw and straight nose, both of which lent her authority.

Hux stopped in front of her and said, “Captain Phasma, may I introduce Kylo Ren, my husband.” He spat the words as if they were sour.

Phasma looked Kylo over with open curiosity, for which Hux didn’t admonish her. Hux clearly gave her more leeway than his other officers, who were looking but were careful to mind their expressions. “Welcome aboard, Master Ren,” she said to him. “I’ve been ordered to arrange a tour of the ship for you, if you’re so inclined, and at your convenience.”

Kylo said, “I’ll take you up on that. Later.”

She nodded. “Of course.” To Hux: “You’re expected on the bridge, sir, to take us out.”

Hux tugged at the hem of his uniform jacket. “Not until I get out of this foolish costume,” he said distastefully. “Tell Peavey to engage the start-up protocols, but wait for me to initiate.”

Phasma saluted and went away. The other officers watched as Hux strode toward a lift. He paused there just to hiss “Are you coming or not?” to Kylo.

Kylo hurried to him and they went into the lift together. When the doors shut and the silence descended again, Kylo finally spoke: “You don’t like your dress uniform?”

Hux tore at the medals, yanking them off and tearing little holes in the fabric of the jacket. “I despise it. There’s no point. None of these mean anything. I should have just been permitted to wear my regular uniform.” He gestured to Kylo. “You certainly didn’t have to wear anything this ridiculous.”

“I was supposed to,” Kylo said, “but I didn’t.”

“No,” said Hux. “You wouldn’t.”

Kylo narrowed his eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Hux shot him a hard look. “You’ve always done what you choose to do, and somehow the Supreme Leaders allows it. You wouldn’t survive a day in the Order’s military. You’re too spoiled.”

Kylo’s temper rose, which shouldn’t have surprised him. Not a full hour into this union and already Hux was antagonizing him. “Not everything in the galaxy revolves around your little toy soldiers,” he snapped. “I have power you can barely comprehend.”

“Oh, _please_ ,” Hux scoffed. “Not that again. No, I can’t use your Force, but that doesn’t make me a complete simpleton. I’ve read about it over the years and at least have a basic sense of what you’re capable of.” He tightened his fist around the medals he still held. “And I’ve seen the footage of you and your Knights in battle.”

It wasn’t often that they fought in skirmishes with troopers, but when they did, Kylo knew they had been recorded. The holos were quietly leaked onto the wider holonet so others would know just what the Order was capable of. It was unexpectedly pleasing to know that Hux had watched them.

“And what did you think?” Kylo asked.

Hux sniffed, but replied, “You have your uses as propaganda and perhaps for certain battle strategies, but you’re far too unpredictable to make a good ground trooper.”

All the pleasure evaporated. “I’m _not_ a trooper,” Kylo said. “And I never will be. If you’re looking to command me—”

Hux waved him off. “I’m not a fool. I know perfectly well I have no jurisdiction over you. As I said before, you’ve always done what you choose to do. Being married to me isn’t going to change that, I’m sure.”

It was said so offhandedly and yet it hit Kylo in the gut like a physical blow. They weren’t just going to see each other for their allotted two weeks anymore; they would have to be together almost all the time. And, as he was distressed to discover as soon as they got up to the residential decks, they would be sharing quarters.

It was a fairly large space, though nowhere near as lavish as the suite they had shared on the _Supremacy_. The lounge space had a holo display and blue sofa at the center, with two identical durasteel desks on either side of an expansive viewport out of which Kylo could see the stars. A opening in the aft bulkhead led to a room with one large bed and sleek black wardrobes on either side. A closed door presumably led to a refresher. Kylo’s focus lingered on the bed they would apparently both have to sleep in without ever touching each other. He wondered if he could requisition private quarters.

“The Supreme Leader had this room designed for us specially,” Hux said, flat. “Or so I was told. Even when my father was in command of the ship, he slept elsewhere. I requested those quarters for myself so that I could give these to you, but was denied.”

So much for Kylo’s plan, too. “I see,” he said.

Hux strode into the bedroom and went straight for his wardrobe, which proved to the be on the starboard side. Inside Kylo could see rows of the exact same uniform and nothing else. He snorted, unimpressed. His own wardrobe was full of new things, all of them in the dark colors he preferred. He stripped the cloak from his shoulders and shoved it into the back of the cabinet to be forgotten. The rest he could leave on for his tour of the ship.

Kylo expected Hux to strip out of his wedding finery there and then, but instead he took his uniform and retreated to the refresher. Kylo stared after him; what a prude he was. After all, Kylo wasn’t going to watch him undress and applaud. Annoyed, Kylo left the bedroom and went to claim one of the desks for his own. Hux had already chosen, of course, and so Kylo had to take the other. His trunks sat by it. Opening the topmost one, he pulled out one of the colorful shells from Ikorr.

“What is that?” Hux asked curtly, having appeared again, this time in his regulation jodhpurs, jacket, and cap.

“A shell,” Kylo replied. “I brought it back with me from a mission once. A long time ago. I was eighteen, maybe.”

“Five years is not _that_ long a time, Ren,” said Hux.

Kylo glared at him, which he seemed to ignore completely as he came over and looked into the trunk.

“You collect things,” he said. “Do any of these have a use?”

“They’re souvenirs,” Kylo replied. “They don’t have to be useful. I just like having them.”

Hux sucked his teeth. “I don’t like having anything that I can’t use. What do you plan to do with them?”

Kylo rubbed the smooth side of the shell, green and purple under his thumb. “Put them around here.” He pointed to the bulkhead. “I’ll have some shelves installed.”

“I suppose that’s acceptable,” Hux said. “Just keep them to your side of the room, will you? I won’t have clutter in my own spaces.”

“This is _our_ space,” Kylo countered, almost a growl. “I won’t have room for it all over here.” He glanced at the side table next to the sofa, stalking to it and setting the shell down. “This can go right here.”

Hux scowled at him. “I don’t want your sentimental trinkets in places where I can trip over them or knock them over. If we must share this space, Ren, I have certain expectations.”

“And you think I don’t?” Kylo snapped. He snatched up the shell. “Fine. I’ll keep it to my side, but don’t complain about it being there. I don’t care that you don’t own anything. I do and I’ll have it where I can see it.”

“Very well,” Hux said. “I’ll leave you to it. I’m going to the bridge.”

Kylo quickly set down the shell. “I’m coming with you. It’s my ship, too.” It sounded childishly bad-tempered, but he didn’t care just then. Instead, he followed Hux out of their quarters and back to the lift.

The _Finalizer_ ’s bridge was an impressive sight, with a score of techs and navigators at seats in sunken wells where their consoles were housed. The wide viewport at the fore offered a view of the supermassive _Supremacy_ and the brightest nearby sun. Kylo wondered in passing if Hux had ever gotten his sun-stealing weapon to work. Maybe he could ask him, now.

“Lieutenant Hynla,” Hux said, “is our course set?”

“Yes, sir,” replied a young woman. “Vectors for the Outer Rim are programmed in. Captain Peavey checked them and gave us the go-ahead. Are you prepared to go to light speed, sir?”

“Affirmative, Lieutenant,” said Hux. “Take us out.”

The powering-up to the hyperdrive set the ship to humming and, as Kylo watched, the stars blurred and they left the system behind. Nobody on the bridge flinched as they entered hyperspace, everyone perfectly trained. Kylo approved.

Hux moved away from the viewport, facing Kylo. “I’m staying here for a time. Would you like me to summon Phasma for your tour? It’s an incredible ship. You wouldn’t want to miss that.”

“No,” Kylo muttered. “Call her, then. I’ll”—he hesitated—“find you again later.”

Hux gave a curt nod, and then Kylo left him with the stars as a backdrop.

 

* * *

              

**Hux**

After Ren had left the bridge, Hux had ordered a complete diagnostics check run of all the major weapons and life support systems aboard the _Finalizer_. The ship was in good order, but now that the command was his, he wanted to ensure that himself. Nothing could go wrong on this first assignment to break the Hutt blockade of an Order-occupied planet. They had gone against the terms of a shipping deal, thinking they could leverage better rates from the Order. The _Finalizer_ ’s state-of-the-art weapons would show them that that was very much _not_ the case.

“All systems check out, sir,” Lieutenant Okangee had said as he finished with the armament checks. “Is there anything else you want us to run?”

“No, Lieutenant,” Hux had told him. “You may all carry on.”

He had gotten a chorus of “Aye, sir” as he stood at the center of the bridge, surveying the long nose of the star destroyer beyond the viewport. She was a truly impressive vessel, and he was determined to earn her a reputation in the galaxy: no mercy. The Order got what it needed, no matter the cost. Hux would see to that personally.

Hux had left the bridge then, to meet with his new upper command. For the thousands of souls aboard ship, there were one hundred and fourteen officers, only twelve of whom Hux interacted with regularly. He had summoned them all the large conference room on deck eleven and given them their first briefing as their commanding officer. A number of them were closer to this father’s age than his, which bred animosity. But Hux kept a file on each one of them and learned their habits and gripes. None of them posed a real threat to him, especially not when he had was favored so demonstrably by the Supreme Leader: he had been married to Snoke’s apprentice.

Hux may have disliked Kylo Ren’s attitude and propensity for sullenness, but he had come to understand that their union was nothing short of a declaration of Snoke’s faith in Hux’s ability to lead the Order. Though Hux had been taken from his postings each year to spend time with Ren, word hadn’t gotten out about their future together until General Brendol Hux had made a formal statement at the Supreme Leader’s behest. It had been to the assembled officers, of which Hux had been one those three months ago.

Brendol had kept it short and to-the-point, but the looks of utter shock and even dismay Hux had gotten after they had been told that Snoke’s deadly apprentice would be coming aboard the _Finalizer_ to reside with his new spouse were rich. Word got around from there and soon enough the entire ship was abuzz with the news. Hux had never appreciated the match until it was of use to him.

And yet, that morning, when Hux had watched the hulking Ren drag his feet through Snoke’s throne room to Hux’s side, the victory had dulled. Ren meant power, but Ren also meant _Ren_.

The cursory ceremony had suited Hux just fine: a basic promise of fidelity to each other and service to the Order. One aspect would certainly be easy enough to fulfill, but the fidelity was a bit trickier. Hux had spent his last shore leave “whoring,” as his father called it, in a last effort to enjoy himself before he was saddled with a husband he never intended to touch. Brendol had warned him that no dalliances would be tolerated. He didn’t have to fuck Kylo Ren—or be fucked by him—in order for their union to be binding, but he couldn’t have anyone else, either. Hux had decided that with his work and a few illicit purchases, he would survive without sex. Tolerating Ren in his space every day was going to be significantly more difficult.

Systems checks done and meetings concluded, Hux had returned to their quarters to take a holocall with the foreman of the mining crew hollowing out the planet that would be his Starkiller. Work was progressing well, Hux had been glad to hear. When the call was finished, he had sat back heavily in his chair and taken a deep breath.

His desk faced the bulkhead, giving him some manner of privacy, while Ren’s desk was opposite. Apparently, he had been here again after they had left for the bridge because more of his useless trinkets had been unpacked and sat out on the desktop. Rising from his chair, Hux went and looked some of them over. So needless and without a purpose, he thought, as he looked at hunks of rock or little figures of animals cast in bronze. There was some kind of helmet for a small being at the corner of the desk and a blunt bone knife along one edge. Hux considered picking it up to examine it, but Ren probably had a way of sensing that he had put his hands on it, and Hux didn’t want to appear interested. He was going to see all of this junk on a daily basis for the foreseeable future, anyway.

The chronometer on the wall didn’t have to tell Hux that it was nearing the dinner hour; his stomach was already rumbling from the lunch he had missed. Determined to get to the officers’ mess early, he gathered up his cap and greatcoat to take with him.

A lieutenant was posted outside the mess door to greet and vet the men and women who passed through it for meals. It was a girl barely out of training today, and her gray eyes went wide as she saw Hux. She was quick to salute.

“Good evening, Lieutenant,” Hux said as he pressed his thumb to the scanner next to the door. He expected it to turn green immediately and for the young officer to step aside to let him pass, but the scanner buzzed and blinked red. The girl stood firm. Hux frowned and tried the scanner again: red. “What is the meaning of this?” he asked the girl.

She swallowed audibly. “You’re not to take your meals here anymore, sir,” she said, voice tremulous.

“Whyever not?” Hux demanded. He was in no mood for this; he wanted his dinner.

“I was told by special dispensation that you’re to go to your private dining room with your husband.”

Hux’s mouth dropped open. “Dispensation from whom?”

The lieutenant wrang her hands. “From General Hux, sir. He said the order came from the Supreme Leader himself.” Her face was ghostly white. “I tried to get someone else to tell you, but he said it was my job tonight. Please don’t reprimand me for this, sir.”

Hux snapped his teeth together, grinding them in frustration. Snoke had no right to ban him from the mess and force him to be with Ren. “This is only for tonight, Lieutenant,” he said. “Correct?”

She shook her head forlornly. “Going forward, sir.”

“Right,” said Hux, jaw still tight from clenching it. “You’ll receive no reprimand, Lieutenant. You did well.”

“Oh, thank you, sir,” she said in a rush of blatant relief. “And congratulations.”

“What?” he asked.

“Your wedding, sir. Congratulations.”

Hux tamped down the urge to tell her to keep that to herself, managing to say, “Yes, thank you. As you were.” Turning on his bootheel, he stormed back to the lift.

He hadn’t shown Ren the dining room when they had come to their quarters earlier, but as Hux arrived there now, he saw that the double-wide doors that led to it were open and Ren was sitting at the head of the table sipping water from a tall glass. Hux paused at the threshold, meeting his eyes.

“Took you long enough,” Ren grumbled. “I’ve been waiting here for fifteen minutes.”

Hux, appetite almost spoiled by the prospect of sharing dinner with him, stalked into the dining room and removed his greatcoat. There was no sensible place to hang it, so he put it on the back of his chair before sitting down.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” he said, terse.

Ren glowered at him across the table. “The droids wouldn’t bring me anything to eat until you got here. It’s our wedding dinner, or so they told me.”

Hux sighed, reaching for a glass that was thankfully filled with wine. “I wasn’t aware we were making an occasion of it.”

Ren said, “Neither was I. Captain Phasma told me you always eat in the mess. I figured I’d be up here alone.”

“That was my intention,” said Hux, “but I was turned away by my own staff, at the request of your master. We are, apparently, supposed to enjoy each other’s company every night now.”

Ren muttered into his water glass, “Of course we are.”

“Yes,” Hux said flatly.

A protocol droid attendant appeared to greet them, offering its own felicitations on their union.

“Can we just eat, please?” Ren asked, cutting it off mid-sentence.

The droid, who had introduced itself as R-19, replied, “Certainly, Master Ren. It’s quite ready for you.” The droid produced two covered plates that, admittedly, smelled divine when the covers were removed. It set a plate in front of Ren and then Hux, leaving them with a basket of bread between them.

Hux picked up his fork and poked at the non-regulation cut of meat. “This isn’t the usual food we have aboard. Where did this come from?”

“Special supplies from the Supreme Leader,” R-19 said. “A great deal was sent along for your private consumption.”

Hux shot a cold look at Ren. “Was this by your request? Couldn’t be without your rich food?”

Ren glanced up from his plate, eyebrows drawn. “ _Me_? I didn’t do this. I don’t care what we eat.”

“I would guess you’ve never had a standard ration in your life,” Hux scoffed. “Don’t be so quick to give up your delicacies until you’ve had powdered blue milk.”

“I don’t drink milk,” Ren said.

Hux rolled his eyes. “That’s not the point.”

Ren turned back to his meal and set to cutting the meat into small pieces, which he stacked on top of the sliced tubers they had been served and then popped both into his mouth.

With little other choice, Hux set into his own, finding it very rich and flavorful—almost too much so. He liked functional food that satisfied his needs; he didn’t need this kind of fare. When the stores Snoke had apparently ordered for them had been exhausted, he would go back to what he knew and already liked.

The first few minutes they spent in silence, the clinking of silverware the only sound. It was Hux who broke first: “How was your tour of the ship?”

Ren had to finish chewing before he could respond. “Good,” he said. “She’s incredible. I barely saw a fraction and we were gone for four hours.”

“Another tour can be arranged, I’m sure,” said Hux, “if you’d like to see more.”

“I can get around on my own.”

Hux tipped his head to the side, acknowledging. “Very well. I assume you located where your personal command shuttle is housed and where your ‘Knights’ are quartered.”

Ren nodded. “They’re close by.”

“How do they find the _Finalizer_?” Hux lifted a brow. “Or do they not have opinions on such things?”

“They’re not droids,” Ren said testily. “And they seem to like it fine, but they haven’t seen much, either. The training facilities are good, though. They’ll like that.”

Hux cut a thin slice of meat and ate it carefully.

Ren continued: “There are fewer stormtroopers aboard than I thought there would be. Only a few thousand.”

“That was by design,” said Hux. “This is not a trooper transport, after all. More can be deployed from other vessels around the galaxy. Much of their training is done planetside now, too.” He lifted his chin. “I created that program. It’s made for much more versatile soldiers.”

Ren grunted in assent and Hux tried not to glare at him. He had never shown any particular interest in Hux’s work with the Stormtrooper Program, despite the fact that Hux had completely and effectively overhauled it after taking it over from his father. Hux had been made to watch Ren’s training for years and yet Ren had never once been to see Hux’s own work. And Ren seemed to make a point of reminding Hux that in his eyes Hux did nothing useful. Now, though, Ren would _have_ to know what Hux did every day.

“How did you find Captain Phasma?” Hux asked. “She’s one of my very best.”

“Seems capable,” Ren replied. The corner of his mouth turned up just the slightest bit. “She’s very honest.”

Hux chuckled. “Yes, she is. Maybe to a fault. Although I very much value her opinion.”

“Even of you?” Ren said.

Hux shrugged. “There’s nothing she could have told you that embarrasses me. We’re colleagues. She knows how I work, not about my personal life.”

Ren actually grinned, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “Your personal life is embarrassing? I’d like to hear about that. But then again...I’m about to be right in the middle of it. I’m sure I’ll learn all I need to know.”

His tone steady, Hux said, “I don’t intend to try and keep things from you. If you want to know something about me, you just have to ask.” He waved the hand in which he held his fork. “I don’t have time for intrigue in my life, let alone in my marriage.”

Ren nodded. “I’ll say the same.”

“Good,” said Hux, pushing his plate away and standing. “Then I don’t have to sit here any longer. I have work to do.”

Ren actually looked taken aback as Hux gathered his things and left him in the dining room with his half-finished meal and his own thoughts.

Hux hung his coat in his wardrobe before going to his desk and pulling up messages and reports from the various officers and techs he communicated with. It was his nightly ritual to work until around 2300 hours and then take a long shower before going to bed. This suite had running water, like the _Supremacy_ , even if there was no bathtub. It was recirculated, of course, but it was still an indulgence Hux was glad to have.

Ren came out of the dining room a few minutes later, walking past Hux without so much as a glance in his direction. He went straight to his side of the room and began to unpack more baubles. He thankfully made no commentary as he did, allowing Hux to concentrate on his correspondence.

By the time Hux was finished, Ren had long since disappeared into their bedroom. Hux hoped he was asleep, but unfortunately, he found him lying in bed with the covers brought up to his waist, reading from his datapad. His chest was bare.

“Please tell me you don’t sleep naked,” Hux said as he went to his wardrobe and removed his boots.

Ren eyed him over the top of the datapad. “Not usually.”

“Good. Neither do I.” Hux snatched up his sleep clothes. “Do you need the ‘fresher? I’ll be a while.”

“No.”

“Very well.”

Shut away inside, Hux turned the water on hot and washed away the day. He rested his forehead against the cool durasteel of the cubicle, breathing in steamy air. More than anything, he wanted a bed of his own and the silence of the night cycle undisturbed by Ren. Unable to have that, at least he still had the shower.

Body and teeth clean, he came back out into the cooler bedroom, finding it already dark. Ren was no more than a lump on his side of the bed, sheets pulled up over his head. Hux fumbled through the blackness to his side and peeled back the sheets. Settled in, he lay on his back. Ren shifted, jostling him and bumping his calf with a cold foot.

“Kriff, don’t do that!” Hux exclaimed.

Ren grumbled, “You can’t have the whole bed. There’s only so much space in here.”

“Yes, but keep your frigid appendages to yourself.” Hux yanked the blankets tighter around himself, though Ren would only let them go so far. Hux lay staring up into the dark for a while, listening to Ren’s breathing. He was certain he’d never rest like this, never having shared a bed to actually sleep before. Giving up good sleep was apparently another price that came with this marriage.

He was just beginning to drift off when he heard, “Goodnight, Hux.”

Hux sighed. “Yes, goodnight, Ren.”

 

****

 

Hux came awake from hazy, half-remembered dreams to find himself in a larger bed than his standard bunk. The sheets were softer, too, and he luxuriated in their sleekness before he recalled where he was: this bed was his _and_ Ren’s, hence its size and lavish appointment. However, Hux was the only one in it, and spread out almost all the way across. Blinking his eyes to clear the sleep from them, he sat up and peered around the room. It was barely past 0500, but Ren was nowhere to be found. Hux said his name once and received no reply.

With a mix of relief to wake alone and concern that he was, he got out of bed and went to the ‘fresher to splash some water on his face before he got dressed and tamed his sleep-mussed hair. He was put together when he stepped out of the bedroom to find Ren seated cross-legged on the carpet in front of the sofa, meditating. Hux froze, uncertain how to proceed. He didn’t want to disturb him, but it was impossible to sneak around in his regulation boots. And soon he would be expecting his breakfast; droids weren’t quiet about it.

“You’re staring,” Ren said after a moment, his eyes still closed.

Hux drew himself up to stand perfectly straight, annoyed at being called out. “What am I supposed to do, just ignore you?”

Ren’s palms rested face-up on his knees. “Yes. I’m busy.”

“You can meditate while I’m here?” Hux asked. He still hadn’t moved from the spot by the door.

At last Ren did open his eyes. “You were here before; you were just sleeping.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” Hux said sharply. “Do you do this every morning? If so, I’d like to know if I’m expected to be quiet and say nothing to you while you do it.” They were going to have to learn each other’s routines if they were to cohabit effectively.

“I’ve been here for an hour already,” Ren said, nonplussed. “If this is when you wake up, it’s a fine enough time to stop.” He got to his feet, turning toward Hux and offering a crooked smile. “Good morning, _dear_.”

Hux’s hackles rose right away, far from the way to start a day. “You will not call me that, or any other sort of name like it.”

Kylo huffed a laugh. “I wouldn’t dare.” He set a hand on his hip, staring Hux down.

“What?” Hux demanded.

“I need to use the ‘fresher,” said Ren. “Are you going to let me by?”

With a disgusted grunt, Hux went across the room to his desk, leaving Ren to do whatever it was he need to do. In the quiet of their quarters, he could hear the water start in the ‘fresher, and only then did he relax and call for his breakfast.

To his dismay, he was brought some kind of fruit plate with cheese and instead of the usual porridge and caf. He almost sent it back with the droid, but instead just told it to bring him rations tomorrow morning. It acknowledged the order and rolled away after leaving an identical plate for Ren. Hux forced the fruit down, taking the tea, which was thankfully very hot. He looked over his schedule for the day while he ate, finding it packed with trooper inspections and meetings. He had only a few more minutes before he was expected at the first of them.

Ren came out of the ‘fresher not long after their breakfast arrived, dressed in his usual black. “I thought you’d be gone by now,” he said.

“0600 is my first meeting,” Hux told him. “I like to have a little time to myself in the mornings. Not unlike you and your meditation.” He turned around in his chair to face Ren. “What are you planning to do today?”

Ren rubbed the back of his neck, drawing Hux’s attention to the gold chain that hung around it. It was presumably the pendant he had been wearing yesterday—the one Hux had given him at their first meeting—though now it was tucked under his clothes. The wedding was the first time Hux had seen it since the day he had given it to him. Hux considered asking why he had taken to wearing it, but refrained.

“I have to train,” Ren said. “And then there’s a project I’m working on. Translation of ancient Sith knowledge. It’s proving...difficult.”

Hux lifted his eyebrows. “I didn’t know you were a linguist.”

“I’m not. That’s the problem.”

“Ah, I see. What can you do?”

“I don’t know,” said Ren. “The droid translators aren’t good enough and there aren’t any Aqualish scholars in the First Order.”

“Can you take it to someone?” Hux asked. “I’m sure there’s an elder on Ando who would assist you.”

Ren shook his head. “This isn’t the kind of thing that can be shared with just anyone. It’s powerful history and tradition. You wouldn’t understand.”

Hux made an exasperated noise. “I could certainly try, if you explained it to me.”

“Maybe later,” said Ren, moving past him. “I have to go train now.”

“Your breakfast,” Hux called.

“Later” was Ren’s reply as he disappeared out of the main door and into the corridor.

Hux looked down at his empty plate and sighed. He didn’t know why he was bothering to even speak to him when it was clear he didn’t have any intention of sharing anything. Hux paused to even consider why he wanted him to, when they had never done anything of the sort before. A peace offering, he supposed. But, if Ren wouldn’t give him something, he’d stop; it wasn’t worth wasted effort.

Leaving his dishes behind, Hux gathered his cap and coat for his first meeting.

The report that was given was of interest, so Hux paid the utmost attention as the holo image of another colonel appeared and delivered her news. He made notes for later, asked her the necessary questions, and then ended the call. Tasks to follow up were delegated to others in the meeting before he left for the trooper training levels, where he had an appointment to see a demonstration by Phasma’s units.

She was waiting for him in the observation deck above the training floor when he arrived. “Good morning, sir.”

“Good morning,” said Hux. Below them were three units of troopers, all prepared to demonstrate their skills. “Do you wish to begin?”

She wasted no time, calling down to the unit commanders to begin the drills.

Hux watched for the first few minutes, pleased, but then turned to her and asked, “What do you make of Kylo Ren after your tour yesterday?”

“He’s severe,” she replied, “but had good questions about the running of the ship. He doesn’t strike me as a military mind and yet he’s your co-commander.”

“He’s not,” said Hux. “He leads his little band of Knights, but he’s not a strategist. I strongly doubt he could run an offensive. I have no intention of letting him, either.”

Phasma eyed him sidelong. “You really dislike him that much? You always said he was difficult, but—”

He cut her off: “I don’t know what to make of him as he is now. Despite having known him since I was eleven years old, I saw little of him, and I’ve never seen him work in any capacity. I don’t really even know what he does all day. Today he said ‘training.’ I’m not sure what that means.”

“You’ll have time to find out,” Phasma said. “The rest of your life, in fact.”

Hux tried not to think overmuch on that. “As long as he stays out of the way of my program, I believe we can tolerate each other.”

Phasma blinked at him thoughtfully. “I don’t know how arranged marriages haven’t been outlawed in the Order. On my homeworld, it wasn’t done. I can’t imagine it going well.”

“I had hope for it once,” Hux admitted, “but it was fleeting. But there’s nothing to be done. Ren and I will learn to navigate it.” He swallowed. “Or we’ll kill each other.”

Phasma laughed coldly. “Having him killed might be a way out, but I don’t think the Supreme Leader would like it.”

“No,” said Hux. “And if Ren dies, who’s to say Snoke wouldn’t have me sacrificed in his memory and space our corpses together.”

There was no chance he would arrange for an accident for Ren, anyway. If he wanted his position as general, he would have to take it with Ren in tow.

Turning his attention back to the troopers, Hux focused on the present. He would prove his worth to the Supreme Leader and let his capability speak for itself. What that meant for him and Ren, though, he wasn’t sure. Time would tell, he supposed.

Following the demonstration, Hux left Phasma to her work and went to the bridge. They would soon be coming out of hyperspace at the appointed planet where the Hutts had set up their blockade. He wanted to prepare the offensive plans and watch the battle from his appointed place as commander of the _Finalizer_. After all, he had studied the intelligence on the Hutts’ armaments and carefully outlined how the battle would go. He wanted to witness his own success.

The bridge crew stood to attention when he got there, but quickly resumed their posts at his order. They would be programming guns and monitoring the battery as soon as the offensive started; their efforts were critical.

“Coming out of hyperspace, Colonel,” said the helmsman.

The strange stomach-sinking feeling of deceleration hit Hux as the stars in the viewport became static again and a planet came into view. A string of ragtag Hutt ships were in orbit, and surely they would be powering up their weapons now that the _Finalizer_ was in the system. Hopefully, they had expected something smaller and this ship inspired the due fear.

“We’re receiving a communication, sir,” the comms tech said. “Do you want me to patch it through?”

“Go ahead.”

Over the speakers came a heavily accented voice: “First Order, we see you’ve come to settle terms with us. We’re willing to negotiate.”

Hux suppressed a laugh. “That time is long past. You have this one and only chance to surrender and break this blockade or you will be destroyed.”

“We’re not afraid of you.”

“Your mistake,” said Hux. He gestured for the call to be ended. To the weapons techs, he said: “Deploy the fighters and prime the guns. Wipe them out. It should take no more than twenty minutes.”

“Yes, sir.”

The battle took precisely eighteen and a half minutes. Hux stood at parade rest and watched thirty TIE fighters and the _Finalizer_ ’s guns lay waste to the Hutt fleet. They took no prisoners and left no enemy vessel whole.

“Well done,” Hux said when it was all ended. “Send Captain Ernsen to the surface to make sure our assets are in order. And send scrappers to see if there’s anything of use in the wreckage of those ships.” The Order had established itself upon salvage—both from Imperial ships and Imperial exiles—and he wasn’t one to seek new resources when he could easily take them from others.

Behind him, the door to the bridge opened and eyes turned to the new arrival. Hux didn’t even have to look to know it was Ren. He came up beside Hux and took in the scene of broken ships outside the viewport.

“It went well, then,” he said.

“It did,” said Hux. “Now we just have to clean up the mess and our operations planetside will resume as normal. And the Hutts will think twice before they try to swindle us.”

“ _Anyone_ should think twice before crossing the First Order,” Ren said, voice a low rumble.

Hux smiled one-sidedly. “Yes, that’s true.” He turned his head to see Ren properly. “Did your training go well this morning?”

“Yes.”

When he didn’t elaborate, Hux continued: “And what of your translation project?”

The muscles in Ren’s jaw worked as he clenched his teeth. “I’ve reached out to contacts on Ando. That was...good advice.”

Hux’s eyebrows rose. Ren acknowledging that he approved of something Hux had suggested? He never thought he’d see the day. “Well,” Hux said, “I hope it goes well. Do you plan to go there yourself?”

Ren nodded. “I’ll go tomorrow. I should be gone a few days.”

“Certainly,” Hux said, doing his best not to give away just how pleased he was. “Do you travel frequently?”

“Often enough.”

Hux wet his lips, hoping it was more often than not. “I understand. Well, if there is anything you need to requisition for your trip—”

“I don’t need your help,” Ren said curtly. “I’ll take care of it myself.”

“Very good,” said Hux. He faced the viewport again. “Is there anything else you wish to discuss at this time?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll see you at dinner.”

Ren gave him a dark look, but didn’t speak. He simply swept off the bridge, leaving Hux alone on the raised platform. The meal would be tolerable knowing that Ren would be gone―with hope, for a few days. Hux could establish himself aboard the _Finalizer_ in peace. He would deal with Ren when he returned.


	3. Act II

## Act II

**Hux**

If Hux took comfort in anything, it was routine. He rose at the same time every morning, had his prescribed breakfast, and then went about his work. The tasks changed from day to day, but he scheduled them to suit and never neglected his duties with the Stormtrooper Program. He managed, too, to find time to check in with the progress of Starkiller: a source of consistent satisfaction. The one interruption had been his requirement to take dinner in his and Ren’s quarters, which he was expected to do even when Ren was away.

For the past three nights, he had eaten with his datapad for company, refusing to speak to the droids. Though he was brought his preferred breakfast, the dinners were still far too rich. He could barely finish all the food, and it sat heavy in his stomach after the meal. Wasting supplies was not something he did, however, so he ordered the leftovers stored for his lunch the next day. To spare himself the questioning looks of his officers, he took it at his desk.

He didn’t know when to expect Ren back and didn’t worry much about it. If he had been one of Hux’s soldiers, he would have been reprimanded for a lack of reports, but Ren’s absence was more routine than his presence; Hux was used to being alone. He could enjoy the size of the bed to himself and the undisturbed quiet of their quarters after dinner. It was easy to get work done, and he slept soundly.

It was a surprise, then, to come through the door on the fourth day during beta shift and find Ren bent over his console, presumably working on something. He was stripped down to an undershirt and shorts, his clothes scattered around the floor in a trail leading to his desk. The helmet he wore in combat sat abandoned on the side table by the sofa. He didn’t even look up when Hux entered.

“Ren,” Hux said. “I see you’re back.”

His attention remained on his console.

Hux approached brusquely, annoyed at being ignored. “Ren,” he said again, louder. “I’m speaking to you.” Reaching out, he set a hand on Ren’s shoulder.

Instantly, he was frozen in place, an invisible energy wrapped around him and making every muscle go taut. His face was held, too, keeping him from expressing his shock.

Ren turned, eyes murderous and right hand poised as if it was the thing holding Hux in place. He recognized Hux, though, and lowered it. Air came rushing back into Hux’s lungs as he was released. Ren plucked small black earpieces from under his hair. “Don’t sneak up on me like that,” he said. “I could have snapped your neck.”

Hux managed to keep himself from doubling over to recover, but barely. “What the _kriff_ did you do to me?” he demanded.

“Stopped you with the Force,” Ren replied. “I didn’t know who you were. You could have been trying to kill me.”

“Who else would be in our _private_ quarters, Ren?” said Hux, scowling at him.

He shrugged. “It was a gut reaction. I’m used to protecting myself.” He paused to chew his cheek. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Hux wasn’t going to admit that his power turned against him had been frightening; it would give him the upper hand. Instead, he looked down his nose at him with stern disapproval. “You should be. I expect you never to do anything like that again.”

Ren said coolly, “Then don’t sneak up on me.”

“What else was I supposed to do?” Hux asked. “I didn’t know you couldn’t hear me with those damned earpieces in. I thought you were just ignoring me. Touching you was the only way of getting your attention, save for taking out my datapad and sending you a message on your console.” He sniffed. “I will not sink to that level. I will _speak_ to my spouse.”

“I apologized already,” Ren said. “Do you want me to grovel?” He crossed his arms. “Because I won’t.”

Exasperated, Hux waved a dismissive hand. “Just don’t do it again. If someone approaches you in here, it’s me.”

“Fine.”

“What are you working on, anyway?” Hux asked.

“The Sith holocron,” Ren replied. He gestured to the object next to his console. “It was translated on Ando.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” said Hux. “I can’t imagine the kind of mood you’d be in if you hadn’t gotten what you wanted.”

Ren glared. “ _Don’t_. I’m not in the _mood_ to argue with you right now. I need to keep working. What did you want?”

Hux hadn’t really had any particular design other than to greet him, which seemed appropriate. He didn’t always need something substantive to say; he could just say hello. Despite that, he said, “Only to find out if your trip was successful. I know that it was, so I’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you want.”

Fiddling with the earpieces in his palm, Ren said, “It was successful, yes. Did you...do all right while I was gone?”

Hux wasn’t exactly sure what that was supposed to mean, but Ren was making an effort at conversation, so he might as well play along. “Business aboard is going as usual. The new FN unit of troopers is shaping up exceptionally.”

“That’s good?” Ren said. “Are they ready to be deployed in combat?”

“They’re seventeen years old,” said Hux, nearly a scoff.

“So, no?” Ren asked.

Hux pursed his lips, annoyance rising again. Ren knew absolutely nothing about the program and had never made any effort to learn about it. Strained, Hux replied, “No. They’ll not be sent into active combat until they’re twenty-one. They’ve just come from planetside training. But they have a great deal of potential.”

“Oh,” said Ren. “Makes sense.” Hux thought he was just going to drop the issue, but then he continued: “What kind of training are they going to be doing here on the _Finalizer_? You’re overseeing them personally, right?”

“Yes. I bring each unit under my command around this age to make sure their training is progressing on schedule.” He waited for a moment, unsure if he was supposed to elaborate, but Ren was watching him with a measure of expectation, so he did: “The troopers go through conditioning evaluations as well as physical work and weapons training.”

“That’s...not what I thought,” Ren said, halting. “I didn’t think you had that much to do with them.”

Hux raised his brows. “No? As head of the program I’m responsible for their performance. Why wouldn’t I oversee them myself at some point in their careers?”

“I just figured you were above all that.”

Ren set the earpieces down on his desktop and rubbed his bare thighs. They were only lightly haired, Hux noticed, but the hair was dark like that on his head. His chest was devoid of it, though, as Hux’s was. Hux had to admit that he preferred that to a full pelt. Not that he had turned down lovers based on that alone; sometimes need superseded preference.

“I’m not,” Hux said. “Maybe I’ll withdraw some when I’m promoted, but until then these soldiers are part of my day-to-day.”

“How long do you think that’ll be from now?” Ren asked. “When you’re made a general, I mean.”

Hux considered that almost daily, but he couldn’t anticipate his father’s intention to cling to his place of power. He might hurry the process along, he knew, but it would take fastidious planning, which he had yet to do.

“I can’t say for sure, but I’d imagine it’s before you’re named Supreme Leader.”

Ren hummed, contemplative. “You’re probably right. I don’t even know my master’s age, and he hasn’t implied anything about stepping down.” He combed his fingers through his hair. “But I’m young still.”

“You are, yes,” said Hux.

“So are you,” Ren countered, eyeing him. “Twenty-eight isn’t much, especially compared to your father.”

Hux inclined his head. “I’m well aware of that. But I _will_ take over for him younger than he was appointed, I can promise you that.”

Ren blinked at him, and Hux thought he could make out the implication there. “That would suit you, I think,” he said. “You’ve always been the most ambitious person I’ve ever known.”

“I don’t know whether that’s meant to be a slight or not,” said Hux

“It isn’t,” Ren said. “Just an observation.” He took a deep breath. “I need to get back to this holocron. Do you need anything else?”

“No. I’ll leave you to your work.”

Though he had intended to sit at his desk for a time and address some messages, Hux felt uncomfortable crowding Ren’s space. He had his datapad and the officers’ lounge was likely empty at this point in the cycle; he might as well take his correspondence there.

“I’ll see you at dinner, then,” he said.

Ren nodded and then turned back to his console. Hux went out, bound for the lounge.

 

****

 

That night, Ren joined him for dinner, which featured a stilted conversation about their days. Ren had successfully finished his work with the holocron and would be spending the next few days in training to apply what he had learned. When Hux asked if he would report back to the Supreme Leader, he averted his eyes and dodged the question. Hux wondered at that, unsure what to make of it. It seemed as if Ren was keeping secrets, which Hux didn’t expect. He had been under the impression that there was nothing hidden from Snoke.

When they were finished eating, Hux sat as his desk again to finish his messages for the night, and Ren sprawled out on the blue sofa to browse the holonet. The noise was mildly distracting, but Hux tuned it out as best he could and got done what he needed to accomplish. At 2300, he stretched and went to the ‘fresher for his shower. He cleaned his teeth and, dressed in his sleep clothes, went to the bed to lie down. Without any choice, he scooted to his side to make sure Ren had space on his own.

This was only the third night they would actually sleep together and Hux was prepared to lie awake for a while before he could will himself to rest. The mattress sank under Ren’s weight, forcing Hux to nearly latch onto the edge of it to keep from rolling against him. Fortunately, Ren kept away, too, and they hadn’t found themselves in the awkward position of pressing together over the course of the night. Hux was apprehensive about that, and was sure it would be far too hot for him. He ran warm and Ren already put off enough heat across the bed to make them both sweat as they slept.

He was lying facing the bulkhead when Ren joined him, draping the sheet over himself. The tension had them shifting restlessly, trying to get comfortable. Ren murmured a “goodnight” before turning his back on Hux and presumably drifting off. Hux was tired enough to fall asleep eventually, thankful for it.

When he woke in the morning, Ren was gone again. As expected, Hux found him in meditation in the main part of their quarters. He didn’t tread lightly around him or speak, just ordering his breakfast. Ren got up a few minutes later and disappeared into the ‘fresher. They parted not long after, with little said between them.

The next two days passed in much the same way, with them going about their tasks separately but coming together for dinner—and after. The claustrophobia set in gradually, as they continued to be in company. The quarters that had seemed pleasantly big when Hux was alone closed in around him when Ren was in residence. They sometimes wanted the ‘fresher at the same time and had to dance around each other to decide who would go first. They maintained their privacy, but Hux always knew he was there in the evenings.

Ren slept shirtless, but otherwise Hux had not seen him in less. And Hux made sure to be clothed at all times. Anything else left him feeling too exposed, too comfortable. That was something they certainly were not when they were together. The continued awkwardness was palpable. Hux hated it, and yet had no plan to alter the situation. He did his best to stay away from their quarters during the day to create the necessary distance to keep sane.

They had been married now for nine days, but it seemed far longer. Hux paused to look at himself in the foggy mirror after he got out of the shower that night, trying to find some manner of contentment in the arrangement. It was of little use, however; when he went out into the bedroom again, he saw Ren in bed and felt the heaviness of their situation. He crept in next to him, turning off the illuminators and leaving them in the pitch darkness.

He was idly running over the tasks he had to address in the morning when he noticed the mattress shaking somewhat. He frowned into the darkness, trying to ignore it. But the agitation only increased. It wasn’t until he heard Ren make a quiet little sound that he realized what was going on.

“What the _kriff_ do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, clutching the sheet up around his neck.

Ren stopped, saying gruffly, “What do you think?”

“I—” Hux started, not wanting to say it. “No. You will not...do that in bed. If you have to take care of yourself, go the ‘fresher. I’m trying to sleep.”

“You can’t throw me out of my own bed,” Ren said, belligerent.

Hux growled, “I can if you’re going to”—he grimaced—“pleasure yourself while I’m attempting to rest. I have work to do tomorrow.”

Ren huffed. “It won’t take long. It’s been _days_ since I’ve done this.”

“You won’t see to it in the shower like a civilized person?” said Hux. It’s how he had been doing it, especially lately.

“I like this better,” Ren replied. With a grunt, he went back to touching himself, shaking the bed.

Hux absolutely would not get up and leave him to do it when it was his transgression. He considered shoving him onto the floor—it was nothing less than he deserved—but instead he just lay on his back and ground his teeth.

Ren’s efforts grew more pronounced, and he made small noises: tiny groans and heavy breathing. He was on his side, facing away from Hux, but Hux could hear the muffled slap of skin on skin. It should have disgusted him, and he liked to pretend it did, and yet he could feel the blood in his belly dropping to his groin. He swallowed heavily, scolding himself. He had no intention of touching his own cock, which was betraying him by hardening. It had been a great deal of time since he had heard or lain next to some taking their pleasure, and it was affecting. Still, he held the sheet up to his chin and suffered.

Ren had been right, at least; it didn’t take overly long. After a few minutes, he trembled and gave a long, deep sigh. Hux hoped he hadn’t sullied the bed. Flipping the sheet back, Ren reached for something on the bedside table—a towel presumably—and wiped up before tossing it away. He then flopped down on the pillow and went still.

Hux calmed in the aftermath, but he was abjectly uncomfortable. _Stars, this is awful_ , he thought miserably as he closed his eyes. He was looking at the rest of his life, though—inescapable.

 

****

 

The buzzing of his alarm woke him at 0500 the next morning, the preprogrammed illuminators coming up to twenty percent. He rolled onto his back in the bed—Ren was already gone—and blinked at the overhead. After Ren’s escapade, he had managed to sleep, but it had been fitful and colored by unsettled dreams. He couldn’t remember them exactly, but he recalled that Ren had been present at times. That was not a welcome thought. He didn’t need to be dwelling on him when he had other tasks to take care of. He had taken sex off the table years ago, and he wasn’t about to change his mind because of eight inappropriate minutes one night.

Frustrated, he gathered his clothes and went to the ‘fresher to clean his teeth and dress. Ren had a few unlabeled bottles and jars on his appointed shelf mounted next to the mirror. Hux picked one up and unscrewed to top to inspect it. It was some kind of shaving soap, he guessed, since Ren smelled like it sometimes in the mornings. His own products were unscented and he had them specially ordered so as not to upset his skin. It was one of the few non-regulation indulgences he allowed himself.

Setting down the jar, Hux picked up a bottle and sniffed at it, too. It had a woodsy scent, but wasn’t overwhelming. Maybe it was for his hair; Hux couldn’t guess. He had noted that Ren took good care of his body, showering sometimes more than once a day—the second time after his training. His clothes were like a stage costume, but they were clean and well-kept. Aside from the few times he left them scattered around the floor while he worked half-naked at his console, he was tidy. As a domestic partner, he wasn’t intolerable.

The trinkets and baubles were a different matter, however. They had most certainly spilled beyond his side of the room to other places around their quarters. Hux’s desk was left alone, but in the ‘fresher now there was a crudely fashioned emblem from some unknown tribe hanging on the bulkhead above the toilet and a collection of woven grass bowls on the floor. Hux had vetoed the things he called windchimes for the common area, but there were objects of various shapes and sizes scattered around on the other flat surfaces.

It interrupted the clean lines of the space and filled it with mismatched colors that drew the eye distractingly. Not that they often entertained anyone in their private quarters, Hux couldn’t imagine holding someone’s attention there, when there were so many _things_ to pull their focus. He preferred simplicity.

Stalking past the bowls and the emblem, Hux went into the common room, where he found Ren sitting in meditation on the floor, as usual. In the light of the new cycle, Hux saw his mismatched features and thick arms and torso anew. He couldn’t help but think of all those pieces of him working together the night before to pleasure himself. Some people made terribly embarrassing faces in the throes of orgasm, and Hux cruelly hoped Ren was one of them, but his intuition said otherwise.

In general, Ren was extremely expressive, showing anger as freely as interest. Hux could tell when he was bored during dinner and not paying attention to whatever Hux was saying—when they talked at all. Ren’s expression was blank now, resting, but Hux had, in his mind’s eye, an image of his mouth open and eyes screwed shut as he hit his peak, making that sigh he had the night before—sounding so satisfied.

 _No_ , he scolded inwardly. He would not venture there.

In crisp, decisive steps, he went to his desk and sent the message for his porridge to be delivered. It would take the droids only a minute, but he found himself too restless to sit, feeling oddly watched, even if Ren wasn’t looking at him. He fidgeted with his hands at his sides, uncertain. He actually cried out in surprise as he heard, from right behind him, “Sleep well?”

He whirled around to face Ren, who was far too close to him. “Was that really necessary? You startled me.”

Ren was barely suppressing a mocking smile. “Just wanted to make sure you got that rest you wanted. You said you have _so much_ work to do today.”

“I did sleep,” Hux said sharply, “though not well.”

“Well,” said Ren, the smile appearing, “you should get off more. It’ll help you fall asleep.”

Hux sputtered, “You can’t— Don’t say things like that. Keep your perversions to yourself.” He almost grimaced at the prudishness of that.

Ren laughed, deep and loud. “Oh, that’s good. Exactly something you would say. You’re unbelievable, you know that?” He shook his head, hands on his hips. “I didn’t know I was marrying a protocol droid.”

“How dare you?” Hux hissed. “Just because I keep my cock in my trousers at night doesn’t mean I don’t use it.”

“I’ll never know if you do or not,” Ren said. He was suddenly shuttered, glancing away as he often did when he was uncomfortable.

Hux sucked his teeth. “What does it matter to you, anyway? We agreed—”

Ren leveled an accusatory finger at him. “ _No_ , we didn’t ‘agree’ on anything. You just told me how it was going to be. I didn’t have any say in it.”

“And I stand by that decision,” said Hux, chin high. “Making a show of fucking your hand in our bed isn’t going to alter it.”

“It wasn’t _for_ you,” Ren snarled. “I like doing it right before I sleep and you being around isn’t going to _alter_ that, either. So get used to it.”

Hux gave a disgusted scoff. “I won’t have it.”

“You _will_ ,” said Ren, his eyes flashing with anger. “If you’ll never sleep with me, then you’ll give me this.”

“That’s your line in the sand?” Hux asked, eyebrows raised. “Your right to pleasure yourself while I’m lying next to you is really the thing you’re going to fight for?”

Ren looked chagrined. He replied, “Don’t be a prick. Just let me have it.”

Hux sighed, gesturing his defeat. “If that’s what you want, I’ll permit it.”

“‘Permit it,’” Ren grumbled. “You’re not my master. I don’t need your permission for anything.”

“No,” said Hux. “But I _am_ your husband, and if we’re to have a workable union, we have to compromise. I’ll put up with this demand, if I must, but you should be prepared to give some, too.”

“Fine,” he said. He had no parting words as he turned and stormed into their bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

It was no different than any other tiff they had had as children: they disagreed, snapped at each other, and then Ren slammed the door on him. Hux would be shocked if he said anything at all over dinner that night.

The droids arrived with Hux’s breakfast then and, resigned, he sat down and ate. The porridge he favored was thick and colorless and very bland, but it kept him full until later in the afternoon, when he could pause to eat something else. Like his living space, he wanted simple things that sustained him without extravagance. He snorted. He had, quite unfortunately, been married to a very extravagant person. It was such an ill-suited match that he could barely conceive of days when they wouldn’t argue. Maybe the years would temper them, but until then they’d have to suffer mornings like this one.

Hux delivered his dishes back to the droids after he had finished eating and left the room, headed for his first assessment of the FN troopers. Phasma would be waiting for him already, he was sure, despite the fact that he wasn’t expected until 0600. He took ten leisurely minutes to walk the corridors of the ship, exchanging looks with the passing crew. He might not work directly with any of them, but he wanted them to know who he was. They sometimes met his eyes and saluted, but other times as soon as they recognized him, they ducked their heads and hastened away. A bit of fear was healthy, Hux had decided, and he wished to maintain that.

“Good morning, sir,” said Phasma as he arrived on the main training level observation deck. “I’ve called up the first platoon for your inspection.”

“Very good. Thank you, Captain.”

He went to the window and surveyed the troopers below. They were gathered in neat ranks, but they would scatter as soon as the combat simulation began. Hux had selected a night mission for this session, so on his command, the illuminators dropped to a low level, leaving only the light of a holographic pair of large moons.

“Let them start,” Hux said.

Phasma commed over the loudspeakers: “The round has started. Go!”

For the next twenty-five minutes, Hux’s sole focus was the action on the training floor. He marked down successful maneuvers and any troopers who stood out. FN-4179 and FN-2187 were particularly impressive; he would have Phasma reward them with extra down time after their work today. The others performed well, too—at least up to specifications. Lost in his work, Hux didn’t think of the spoiled morning with Ren at all.

But, by the time the day’s work was finished and he was heading up to dinner, the irritation had returned, in preparation for what he would face. As usual, Ren was seated at the table already, tearing chunks out of his piece of bread and generously buttering them. He didn’t look up when Hux walked in and took up his chair. Hux ignored the bread but reached for the glass of wine that had been poured for him. Even if the meals were too rich, he had to admit to himself that he enjoyed the wines. Ren never drank them, keeping instead to water.

Hux had asked him once why he didn’t partake and he had replied that he preferred to keep his mind unclouded. Hux understood that; he rarely drank more than one glass of anything—especially of the brandy he kept in his desk drawer—in order to maintain control of himself. He had no intention of compromising his authority by stumbling around drunkenly.

“Good evening, Ren,” he said as he laid his too-fine linen napkin over his lap. “I assume your day was productive.” He received a sullen frown in reply. “Perhaps it wasn’t, then?”

Ren put another piece of bread into his mouth, saying nothing.

The droids came with their food: a rich soup that smelled of cream and herbs. For once, it didn’t look like too much, and it certainly wouldn’t keep for tomorrow’s lunch. Hux hoped he could eat it all. He kept his counsel as he spooned the soup up, blowing lightly on it to cool before tasting it. The creaminess left a kind of film in his mouth, but he was grateful the flavors weren’t overwhelming or spicy.

“The FN troopers did very well today,” he said, likely to himself, between bites. “Phasma has done exceptionally with their conditioning. They’ll be a most impressive combat unit in four years.”

“Where do they come from?” Ren asked, breaking the silence Hux had expected to continue until they went to sleep.

Hux paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth. “What do you mean?”

“Where do we get the troopers?”

The system had been in place since Hux himself was a child: his father’s design. The ex-Imperials believed that their successors should be raised wholly under the influence of the First Order, so they took only children into their new training programs.

“Various planets,” Hux said. “Often times they come to us in trade for certain commodities.”

Ren’s dark eyebrows drew together in a disapproving kind of confusion. “You trade _people_?”

Hux shook his head. “ _We_ don’t. We take them in trade _for_ things: weapons, farming or mining tech, old ship salvage, whatever the primitives want in exchange for them.”

“You’re serious?” Ren said, still seemingly unbelieving. “Families give up their children for farm implements and salvage?”

“There are some desititute cultures in the galaxy, Ren,” Hux told him. “They’re barely scraping by. Give them the means to raise more crops and offer their children a better, more comfortable life in the Order, and they’re not likely to turn it down.”

“A stormtrooper’s life isn’t comfortable,” Ren countered. “Not even really the officers. Do these people even know they’re turning children over to be soldiers?”

Hux set down his spoon, uncomprehending of how Ren couldn’t seem to understand the practicality of their recruitment program. “It’s a mutually beneficial agreement. We bring future troopers—and sometimes officers—on and their scavenger families get what they need. You have a problem with this?”

Ren’s hands were lying flat on the table, his arms tense. He was looking down at his soup bowl darkly. When he glanced up at Hux, he said, “No. It was how I was brought to the Order, in a way. My master saw my potential. But do you see it in...babies?”

“We do assessments of what our recruits will be best suited to as they grow,” said Hux. “We raise and educate them and then decide where they belong. You say it’s not a comfortable life, but it’s a purposeful one.” He pursed his lips. “We may not live in a suite on the Supreme Leader’s flagship, but we’re not suffering.”

“I wasn’t coddled,” Ren snarled. “My master pushed me to my very limits all my life. Maybe my bed was bigger than yours and I ate more non-synthetic meat, but I wasn’t handled gently. If you ever wanted to listen, then maybe you’d find out what my training was like.”

Hux’s mouth dropped open. “ _I_ don’t want to listen? Is that meant to be a joke? You’ve asked me about my work with the program _once_ in seventeen years. Can you really blame me for not being overly enthusiastic about hearing about your mystic ‘training?’”

Ren scowled, indignant. “Well, you didn’t offer it up, either. I only know about you what I’ve been told by other people. You’ve told me almost nothing about yourself. You don’t like the food; that’s one thing. You work with the stormtroopers; that’s another. But what _do_ you like?”

“I don’t require much leisure time and you know it,” said Hux. “My work fulfills me. I _like_ that.”

“You’re not solely defined by it, though,” Ren said, pressing. “You have to have an interest outside of your work. Do you read books or watch holo dramas?” He grinned coldly. “Do you paint or collect flimsi texts?”

“Why would I want anything on flimsi?” Hux asked. “Handwriting is nearly impossible to read.”

“Even your own handwriting?” said Ren.

Hux shot him a bemused look. “I have don’t have ‘handwriting.’ We don’t need to be taught that. Everything can be typed.”

Ren reared back, the pique fading. “You can’t write?”

“No,” said Hux. “It’s not necessary. Why? Can you?”

“Of course,” Ren said. “It’s so basic. And it’s absolutely necessary. What happens if there’s no screen to type on and you need to communicate?”

Hux made a frustrated sound. “I don’t know, Ren. I doubt that situation would ever present itself.” He picked up his spoon again, turning his attention pointedly to his food to end the conversation.

Ren wouldn’t be put off. He said, “You really don’t train any of your troopers to write, either? Any of the officers?”

“No. I thought that was clear by this point. We have better things to spend our time on.”

“I can’t…” Ren said, though he trailed off, shaking his head. “You’ve never held a pen in your life?”

Hux willed himself to be patient. “No, Ren, I have not. Would you like me to type it out for you?”

Ren shook his head once again, appearing almost despondent. “That’s terrible. It’s a fundamental skill.”

“Not anymore,” said Hux.

Shoulders drawing in, Ren returned to his soup, dropping the issue at last.

They finished shortly after and went to their desks to work separately: Hux addressing his messages and Ren doing whatever fiddling he had to do on his console. Hux was tempted, out of pure vindictiveness, to ask him about what he was working on and fein interest, but he didn’t. Ren didn’t bother him, either.

When the time came for them to sleep, Hux took his time in the ‘fresher before lying down. He didn’t bother to say anything to Ren about what he was about to have to suffer through, simply turning off the illuminators. It wasn’t long before the bed began to shake and Ren to make his small sounds. Small, though, might have been inaccurate. Tonight, it seemed that he was making a bigger show of it all. There was his vindictiveness, Hux supposed, as he waited for Ren to be finished.

 

* * *

 

 

**Kylo**

The techniques from the Sith holocron had taken longer to master than Kylo had hoped. In the days since his return from Ando, he had been spending a great deal of time in the training rooms, but only in meditation and practice. It wasn’t physical tactics he was working with, but honing his fundamental connection to the ever-present flow of the Force. It left him taxed by the end of the long sessions.

The Knights had yet to share in his newfound wisdom, but he could sense their interest. Even after his contemplation, he went to spar with them, releasing the tension that built in his body by sitting still. It released the frustration he contended with when it came to his union, too.

The situation with Hux had not improved. They still sat uncomfortably at dinner and after, when Hux worked and Kylo pretended to. He had no particular projects for those evenings, but felt as if Hux would judge him harshly for lack of productivity if he just sat down to watch a holo. It wasn’t altogether bad, though; he had gone back to reading instead, often on his console so as to look busy. He hated that he was so concerned with Hux’s opinion of him, but Hux’s constant flow of business made him self-conscious. It wasn’t as if he didn’t train all day; however, Hux didn’t see that.

That compulsion to keep up a certain appearance tired him as well, even if not half as much as the Sith techniques did. He never had a moment off, he realized—always keyed up and ready for Hux’s next sniping barb. It wasn’t that he was purposefully unkind, Kylo thought, but he was always short with him, as if he was a burden. Maybe he was, and that weighed on him more than he would have liked it to.

His discomfort had come to a head five nights ago, when he had been desperate enough to do something for himself in the way he liked to do it that he had taken his cock in hand and stroked himself off while Hux lay beside him. He had craved the release of orgasm in the comfort of his own bed, something he had done nightly since boyhood. If he was going to maintain a façade around Hux the rest of the time they were together, he could at least have this one indulgence.

Hux had been so offended, and it had only spurred Kylo on. The release had been sweeter than it had been for months. The next morning while he was meditating, Kylo was sure he was willing to take his pleasure to the shower, as Hux had demanded he do, but when Hux had staunchly told him off before he had even had breakfast, he took a hard line. Now, he pleasured himself every night, even going so far as to make more noise than he would have alone just to  annoy his husband. It was a satisfying kind of revenge: making Hux sit through each session, sharply aware that Kylo was a sexual creature, even if Hux would not so much as touch him.

Hux never said a word while Ren touched himself and made deep, needful sounds as he fisted his cock. He was used to conjuring up fantasties, or recalling past lovers, but now he found that it was enough to imagine Hux’s pursed lips and tense expression. A few nights before he had even ventured to think of Hux getting hard as he listened to him and felt the tremors in his body as he climaxed. He wondered what Hux thought about as he masturbated in the shower before bed; maybe he had once or twice called up his memories of what Kylo did.

Kylo shifted in his place on the training room floor now, feeling blood moving to his cock. He chastised himself for letting his focus on the techniques wander to the basest needs of his body; this wasn’t the time for that. He tried to re-center, but after a few unsuccessful minutes, he decided he had had enough for the day.

His knees cracked and popped as he got up, and he winced when he stretched his back and shoulders. There was no chronometer in the training room, but he knew it was getting on toward evening, when he would be expected for dinner. The prospect was not one he took any joy in.

For once, Hux was already there when he got to the dining room. He was sipping at his glass of reddish-purple wine and looking at his datapad. Kylo was struck again by the fact that he had never learned to write with a pen on flimsi, relying only on keyboards. It made a dismal kind of sense in the face of the First Order’s efficiency and practicality, but Kylo couldn’t help but be upset. Writing was very personal, and being unable to do it was denying someone a thing that belonged to them, and them only. Typing was uniform, but handwriting was one’s own.

Unspeaking, Kylo went to his end of the table and sat, gratefully picking up his glass of water and drinking deeply. He hadn’t realized he was so parched. Hux eyed him as he did it, seemingly disapproving. Kylo was aware Hux thought little of his table manners, but Kylo didn’t much care about his primness when it came to that.

“Good evening,” Hux said, in his usual forced way. “Was your day productive?”

Kylo considered a noncommittal grunt, but decided it was better to just answer him candidly. “Taxing,” he said. “The new skills I’m building are difficult.”

Hux’s well-shaped red eyebrows rose, his wine glass poised halfway to his mouth. The honesty had caught him off guard. “What skills are those?”

“It’s hard to describe,” Kylo replied, reaching for a still-warm roll from the basket at the center of the table.

Hux’s expression became closed. “I see.”

Kylo read his disappointment clearly enough, and, for once, chose to venture further. “It’s a kind of mental sharpening,” he said. “An attunement to the Force.”

“I thought you were already attuned,” said Hux.

“I am, but”—he searched for the best way to describe it all—“there are different ways of connecting. This is a new one, with nuances I haven’t been able gasp yet.” He chewed his lower lip. “Like I said, it’s hard to explain if you’ve never felt the Force.”

Hux tipped his head to the left, making a small noise of acknowledgement. “You certainly live differently than I do.”

“I would show you,” Kylo said, “if I could. I’m not always good with words. I could see if there’s a way to connect you to it, somehow.”

“Perhaps sometime,” said Hux.

The arrival of their food put an end to the discussion and, for a while, they ate in silence. The supplies that Snoke had provided were, as Hux had said disdainfully some days ago, far better than the standard rations that Kylo had been eating for lunch. He had been spoiled, after all. He was actually going to be disappointed when the stores ran out. He could likely arrange for more to be brought aboard, but he thought Hux would very much disapprove of that.

He frowned down at his blue-tinged fish and roast vegetables, once again annoyed that he let Hux’s opinion affect him so much—at all, in fact.

They finished some thirty minutes later, Kylo’s plate emptied and Hux’s still a quarter full. He was getting better at eating more, but still never had the appetite Kylo did. He didn’t expend as much energy as Kylo, though; Kylo had never heard of him exercising.

Per their routine, they went out into the common room after the droids had cleared the dishes and Hux took up his place at his desk. Kylo went to his own and brought up the same book he had been reading: a volume on bladed combat he hadn’t seen before. It didn’t hold his attention, leaving him to stare down at the screen without absorbing anything. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the place on his middle finger where he had once had a callus from holding a stylus. He hadn’t written much by hand in some time, but he suddenly had the urge.

The trunks in which he had brought his things over to the _Finalizer_ were long gone, but he had a pad of flimsi sheets that he had put into a drawer. He drew it out now, finding an old-fashioned ink-filled pen to match. Laying the pad down on his desktop, he began to copy out the verses he had memorized as a child but hadn’t brought to mind in almost two decades.

They were from Jedi texts his uncle—and teacher—had made him learn by heart. The code was archaic and the language affected, but it was oddly comforting to feel the scrape of the pen’s tip against the flimsi. The verses flowed smoothly from the hidden places in Kylo’s memory, comforting. He was so wrapped up in it that he didn’t notice that Hux had come up behind him until he spoke.

“When did you learn that?” Hux asked.

Kylo’s pen skidded across the page as he started. He set it down to turn and look at Hux. “When I was five or six,” he replied.

“A child that young can spell?”

“A little,” said Kylo, amused, “but I kept doing it as I got older. And sometimes, after my master let me leave the _Supremacy_ , I went to archives and copied the texts there.” He had those copies still, tucked away with his holocrons in the locked case beside his desk.

Hux seemed perplexed. “Why would you not type them? They would be easier to read and save.”

“It didn’t seem right,” Kylo told him. “There’s a connection you make to a manuscript when you copy it by hand.”

“Really?”

Kylo nodded. “I think so, anyway.” He picked up the pen and offered it. “Do you want to try?”

Hux was quick to reject the idea: “No.” He backed away a step. “I’m going to sleep. It’s late.”

Kylo glanced at the chronometer: 2321. “Right. I’ll come when you’re done in the ‘fresher.”

Hux left him there, pen in hand, and swept into their bedroom. He closed the door, presumably to change his clothes privately. Kylo afforded him that, since it seemed so precious to him.

Eventually, after he had cleaned his teeth and put on his sleep pants, Kylo went to their bed and slipped under the covers. He wasn’t itching to touch himself out of resentfulness tonight; they had actually been civil to each other. Still, once the light was out, he was pushing the pants down low on his hips to free his cock. He went slow to start, just bringing himself to hardness.

Gradually, he sped up, saying the usual mumbled “Yes, so good” as he stroked off. He always lay on his side, facing away from Hux so as to give him a little space to stew in his discontent.

“ _Yes_ ,” Kylo sighed after a drawn out groan, jerking himself fast enough to shake the mattress. The show wasn’t as hard to put on as the real pleasure started to build in him. “Ah, there,” he muttered, genuinely enjoying the feeling of his hand tight around his cock. He made a few repetitive grunts, matching the pace of his strokes.

The base of his spine was just beginning to tingle when the sheet was snatched off of him, thrown to the foot of the bed. Startled, he let go of his cock and said, “What the kriff?” He didn’t get a proper answer; instead Hux grabbed him by the shoulder and hauled him onto his back. Kylo couldn’t see him in the dark, but he could feel the fury in him.

“You’re _insufferable_ ,” Hux snarled.

The muscles of Kylo’s stomach tightened as he felt Hux fumbling blindly with his hand along Kylo’s middle. It was warm even against Kylo’s own body heat.

“What are you doing?” Kylo asked.

“Just shut up,” Hux said curtly. “ _Shut up._ ”

Kylo snapped his mouth closed, but it dropped open again seconds later as Hux’s fingers curled around his erection, stroking up from base to tip. He nearly choked as he tried to suck in a breath. Hux was touching him, and the most intimate part, too. He started to jerk Kylo with intent, though he was still far enough away that Kylo couldn’t feel the rest of his body—only his hand.

Kylo groaned in earnest as Hux tightened his grip on the downstroke, squeezing the thick base of Kylo’s cock. Kylo wanted to know why Hux was doing it, but he couldn’t form the question. Pleasure was building again, this time more potently. Kylo hadn’t had someone else’s hands on him in maybe a standard year. He pressed his head back into his pillow, letting himself get lost in the sensations.

Hux went about this as businesslike as he did anything else: working Kylo’s cock in complete silence and seemingly without tiring. Kylo was sure he had on a fairly focused but impassive expression, but he liked to imagine that he was affected by his, too. After all, _something_ had made him break and touch Kylo like this. What that was, Kylo couldn’t even begin to guess. But neither did he care in the moment; it felt too good to overthink it.

“ _Stars_ ,” he said. “Keep going. I’m close.”

Nothing about Hux’s pace changed and Kylo started to shake, his toes curling and ankles flexed. He burned, his breathing labored as if he had been running. He tipped over the edge then, swearing aloud as he came, dotting his belly with hot spend. Hux stroked him through it, until Kylo told him to stop. He pulled away directly, and Kylo expected him to stay back, but then his hands were on Kylo’s hips and his head was over his stomach. Kylo couldn’t for a second believe it when Hux dragged his tongue through the fluid there, licking him clean. He couldn’t see, either, Kylo was sure, but he managed to get it all. Only when he was done did he withdraw. He snatched up the sheet again and pulled it over himself, rolling away from Kylo.

In the aftermath, Kylo was left with damp skin quickly cooling and a complete loss of his ability to speak. Hux had not only brought him off, but he had licked up the mess he had made without a word. Now he was just going to sleep, apparently.

Kylo lay on his back under the sheet, at a loss. Hux had sworn up and down that they would never sleep together, and maybe to him using his hand didn’t count, but Kylo had an inkling that in Hux’s opinion, it _did_ count. Unbelievably, his resolve had broken; Kylo’s ritual had done it. Grinning to himself, Kylo wondered what would happen from here. He wasn’t quite ready to hope that this would become routine, but now that the barrier was down, anything might be on the table.

Hux’s breathing grew steady and regular in time, and, sated, Kylo closed his eyes and drifted off as well.

 

****

 

Kylo crept out of bed at 0430, as he usually did, leaving Hux soundly sleeping, but he paused at the end of the bed to look at him for a moment. His usually severe face was relaxed, his lips parted as he breathed through his mouth. When he came out from the shower at night, his hair was wet; it dried overnight and was tousled by morning. However, when he arrived for breakfast, it was styled again, everything in perfect order. Kylo wondered if the disordered hair had hung over his brow last night as he worked Kylo’s cock. The notion sent a shiver of interest through him. He wanted to see Hux in the throes; he wanted to watch him come apart, as Kylo had the night before. Would he let Kylo touch him? Kylo couldn’t be sure.

He went to the common room to meditate then, folding his legs in front of him and resting his hands on his knees. Clearing his mind was habit enough that he didn’t struggle to do it, and the hour before Hux appeared from inside their bedroom passed quickly. When Hux did walk into the common room, Kylo kept his eyes closed. He would wait for Hux to speak to him; he wasn’t sure himself what to say.

Hux’s boots clicked across the floor toward his desk, where he sat to wait for his breakfast. Kylo continued to bide his time, expecting something to be said, but when nothing came, he got silently to his feet and went through to the ‘fresher to shower and clean his teeth. He lingered under the water for long enough that Hux would be gone by the time he got out. It wasn’t necessarily to avoid him, but he could already feel the awkward tension building up between them again. He rested his forehead against the warm durasteel of the shower cubicle and sighed. Last night had to have changed something; it had to.

Kylo spent most of the day in training, willing to finally share the Sith knowledge with the Knights. They discussed it before practicing themselves, all seven of them seated in a circle on the training room floor. Kylo sought the presence of each one in the Force, forging a connection to them in the way the holocron had instructed. They had varying levels of success, which left all of them frustrated by the time they called an end to the practice. They sparred after, and then cleaned up before Kylo left them. He wanted to pick up the trail of some artifacts he had heard of a while ago. The best place to do it would be on his console, but he had no desire to return to his and Hux’s quarters. Instead, he took his datapad to an observation lounge, sealed the door with the Force, and worked in silence for the next few hours.

The dinner hour came sooner than he would have liked, and, with heavy, trudging footsteps, he went to face whatever Hux had for him over the meal. The first there, he took his seat and grabbed his bread. It was flaky and rich, but he barely tasted it as he chewed. For once, he wasn’t hungry.

He waited for ten minutes and then fifteen and then twenty five, but Hux didn’t come in. He was nowhere to be found. The droids came to offer Kylo his plate, but he sent them away and left the dining room.

He made a few restless laps of the common room before sitting down on the sofa and worrying the hem of his tunic. Hux didn’t miss meals; he kept to his schedule far too much for that. And yet Kylo was alone, frustrated that he was concerned that something had happened to him. Likely, he was just delayed by his work, but Kylo chewed his lips until they hurt and, unable to stay seated, went back to pacing.

It was after 2100 when the door finally opened and Hux came through, looking hollow-eyed and pale. Kylo whirled around to see him. “Where the kriff have you been?” he demanded.

Hux stopped five paces from him, bracing visibly. “Working,” he replied. “There was an issue with the FN troopers that need to be dealt with.”

“Don’t lie to me,” said Kylo sharply. “You said that unit is perfectly fine. _Where were you?_ ”

“What does it matter to you?” Hux snapped, scowling. “You’re not my keeper.”

Kylo stalked over and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him close. “No, but I’m your husband. I was expecting you.” His frustration and worry crested again, tinged with disappointment and a measure of hurt. “You were avoiding me.”

Hux pressed his lips together until they whitened, his silence an admission.

Kylo shook him, though not too harshly. “Are you ashamed of what you did?”

“No,” said Hux. But then: “Yes. Maybe.” He struggled against Kylo’s hold on him. “I don’t know what I was thinking. You’re just so kriffing infuriating with your little displays every night. You make something of it just to vex me.”

“It clearly worked,” Kylo said, lowering his voice and studying Hux’s face. Some color had come up in it; whether it was from pique or the exertion of fighting against Kylo, he didn’t know. “You like it, don’t you?”

Hux scoffed. “Not in the least. It’s uncouth.”

“So you decided it was better to take care of it yourself?” Kylo asked, arch. “Aren’t you just debasing yourself by doing that?”

Hux tried to break free again, but Kylo held him fast. “I don’t know. I—” He cut himself off, glaring.

Kylo smiled darkly. “You got off, admit it. You wanted to do it because it got to you. I imagined you thinking of me while you took care of yourself in the shower. Did you? Don’t lie.”

“Fuck off, Ren,” Hux snarled.

“You _did_ ,” Kylo said triumphantly. “You’re not as immune to me as you always said you were.”

Hux’s face was burning red now. Kylo took it in with gloating delight. Using his free hand, he reached down between Hux’s legs and cupped his cock. To his shock, he found that he was hard.

“Oh,” he said, unable to think of much else.

“Unhand me,” said Hux, his voice higher than usual, almost panicked.

Kylo got a hold of himself and, shaking his head, rubbed his palm over Hux’s erection. “I don’t think so.” He continued, smugly, “Look at you, Colonel Hux. Does fighting with me always get you up? Is that why you do it?”

“No,” Hux said, strained. “You drive me mad, that’s why I fight with you. You’re difficult and confrontational and stubborn and—” He snapped his mouth shut as Kylo curled his fingers as far around his cock as he could through his trousers. “Stop,” he said weakly. “Don’t do this.”

Kylo froze. “Do you really not want it?” he asked. He might be enjoying this, but he wouldn’t force Hux; he drew the line at that.

The muscles his Hux’s throat worked as he swallowed.

“Tell me,” Kylo pressed.

Hux glanced away but then back at him. “Do it,” he said curtly. “Do whatever you want.”

That hit Kylo like a blow to the stomach, all but punching the air from his lungs. He pulled his hand from Hux’s groin, but kept hold of his arm. Ungently, he yanked him toward their bedroom.

Hux’s clothes were a nightmare to remove, Kylo knew—especially the boots, which required a jack to take off. He was in too much of a hurry to bother with any of it. Instead, he pushed Hux down onto the bed, shoving him back until he was pressed against the pillows. His own boots and clothes still on, Kylo knelt over his thighs and, brushing the edges of his jacket aside, he went for the fly of his trousers.

Hux lay there without moving, only watching as Kylo undid the fastenings and reached inside to cup him through his underwear. They were black, just like the rest of his uniform, but soft and stretched taut over Hux’s hard cock.

“Lift your hips,” Kylo told him, latching onto the waistband of both underwear and trousers.

Hux did as he was told and Kylo pulled both down until his lower belly, bony hips, and groin were bare. His cock was flushed and upright, curving just slightly to the left. His pubic hair was as red as that on his head and neatly groomed into a triangle. It was ordered, like him, and Kylo almost laughed.

“What?” Hux snapped, sensing his hesitation.

Kylo replied, “Nothing,” as he wrapped his hand around Hux and gave him a firm stroke.

“ _Stars_ ,” Hux said.

Kylo grinned. “How long has it been?”

Hux blinked at him with dark eyes. “Too long.”

“Me, too.”

Kylo moved his hand up and down steadily, watching Hux’s tip disappear under his fingers on the upstroke. He could do it like this—equal terms—but Hux looked like the kind of man Kylo wanted to taste. He liked having a cock in his mouth, and he was good at it. Lowering himself down, he pressed his lips to Hux’s tip, feeling a bit of wetness there. He wasn’t sure how Hux was going to take it, but when one of his hands slid into the hair at the back of Kylo’s head, it was signal enough that he approved. Without hesitation, Kylo opened his mouth and took him inside. Hux groaned deeply.

He was warm and solid against Kylo’s tongue, which Kylo used to tease the full length before threading down as far as he could, swallowing when Hux hit the back of his throat.

“Oh, _kriff_ ,” Hux swore, his fingers tightening in Kylo’s hair. “Where in the Sith hells did you learn to do that?”

Kylo worked his way back up, popping off just to say, “Cadet Ullens.”

It took Hux a moment to register what he meant, but then he looked stunned. “R-Really?”

Kylo nodded, kissing the tip of Hux’s cock as he did it. “Isn’t that what you wanted when you sent him to me?”

“I didn’t _want_ anything from that arrangement,” Hux said. “You could make of it what you would. And it seems you did.”

“Mmhm,” said Kylo. “I thought you wanted me ready for you. Experienced.”

Hux shook his head sharply. “I never— No. Not that.”

Kylo shrugged. “Well, I am,” he said, and then he swallowed Hux down again.

Hux cursed, raising his hips to push himself deeper into Kylo’s mouth. This wasn’t the right position for him to fuck Kylo’s mouth, but Kylo allowed it for a few moments before he started to bob his head in a regular rhythm. Hux was louder than Kylo would have expected, broken moans reverberating through his body so that even Kylo could feel them. Kylo fed off of it, his own cock pressing hard against the front of his trousers. He wanted to get his hand on himself, but instead he slid it between Hux’s legs to roll his testicles in his palm and press his middle finger behind them.

Hux shuddered, grasping at Kylo’s shoulder with the hand that wasn’t already in his hair. “Keep doing that,” he said. “Just...ah, _yes_...keep going.”

Kylo pushed in that place while he sucked him, his hand around the base slick with saliva. This was exactly the place Kylo had never expected to be: still dressed but bent over Hux in their usually cold bed with his cock down his throat. It was incredibly satisfying and Kylo’s body was burning, sweat gathering at the back of his neck and between his pectorals. Hux tasted so good and his shaking and gasps were delicious.

“I’m close,” he warned. “You don’t have to…” He trailed off, but Kylo could fill in the rest. And he wanted to, especially after Hux had licked his spend off his belly the night before. Kylo took him deep again, ready to bring him to the precipice and see him careening over it. It wasn’t long before he cried out, yanking at Kylo’s hair and thrusting into his mouth. He came over Kylo’s tongue and Kylo dutifully swallowed it all.

“Stop, stop,” Hux said as Kylo was sucking him through the orgasm. “Enough.”

Kylo eased himself back up, wiping a hand across his mouth.

Hux’s appearance was ruined. His hair was mussed from being pressed against the pillow and his cheeks were mottled with red. He looked down the length of his body at Kylo with sex-drunk eyes, still breathing heavily. It was the best he had ever looked.

“Good?” Kylo asked, his dry hand on Hux’s hip, thumb gently stroking the dip on the inside of the bone.

Hux nodded feebly, but crooked two fingers, beckoning. “Come here,” he said.

Kylo moved forward, until he was straddling Hux’s belly. Hux took hold of the bottom of his tunic and told him firmly to hold it up. Kylo did, allowing Hux to get to his fly and begin to undo it. He wasn’t in a good position to use his mouth, but Kylo just let him do as he wanted. When he had Kylo’s cock out, he started to jerk him with purpose, cupping his testicles, too, as Kylo had done him. Kylo braced himself on Hux’s shoulder, already building up to his climax.

“Where—” he started as he began to lose control.

Hux shifted, lifting his head, and opened his mouth, tongue out.

“ _Oh, fuck_ ,” Kylo groaned as he realized what he meant to do. No partner had ever done such a thing before and Kylo felt the blood surge even stronger into his cock. He squeezed Hux’s shoulder, forcing himself to keep his eyes open as he hit his peak and came into Hux’s open mouth. He hit his tongue and lips, even down over his chin, and when he was finished, Hux licked it all away and swallowed it down. Kylo could barely believe it.

“You like that,” he managed to say. “The taste of it?”

Hux gave him a sultry, satisfied look and said, “Yes, I really do.”

Kylo shuddered, but then asked, “You want some water?”

“I think I’ll have a glass of brandy,” Hux replied. “If you’ll let me up.”

Kylo shot him an annoyed look, but lifted himself off of him, getting off the bed and tucking his cock back into his trousers. Hux did the same, righting his clothes before he got back to his feet. He gave Kylo only a passing glance as he left their bedroom and, going to his desk, produced a bottle of dark red brandy and a tumbler. He poured some, took a sip, and then offered the tumbler to Kylo.

“Try it,” he said. “It’s good after someone’s come has been in your mouth.”

Kylo raised his eyebrows at the crassness. “You’ve got a filthy one when you set your mind to it. I heard all the things you said while I was sucking you off.”

Hux huffed a laugh. “You’re one to talk.” He pushed the tumbler into Kylo’s hand. “Just drink a little. A couple of sips won’t affect you.”

Kylo took a drink, letting the sweet brandy wash over his tongue. It did banish Hux’s taste with a pleasant finish. He handed the tumbler back to him. “It’s good.”

“It is,” Hux said, sipping.

They stood there regarding each other for a time before Kylo broke the silence: “So, are we doing this now? Again?”

Hux swirled the brandy around in the tumbler, contemplative. “We could, if you’re amenable.”

“I think it’s pretty clear that I am,” Kylo said.

“Yes, I suppose it is.” Draining the tumbler, Hux put it down on his desk. “We’ll see what happens, shall we? For now, though, I’m ravenous. We should have dinner.”

“All right,” Kylo said. “I’ll call the droids.”

They went together into the dining room for their usual meal, but, in truth, things were far from usual anymore.        


	4. Act III

## Act III

**Kylo**

There was no negotiation about what their new routine was going to be. After that first desperate time, they returned to the same kind of daily pattern as before: they went about their separate work, ate together, and spent time at their desks until 2300. However, at night, they got into bed and lay for a few quiet seconds before one was reaching across the distance between them and yanking the other to him. There wasn’t much to say about it; they were just at each other without any pretense.

Hux wasn’t quite as good as Kylo was at using his mouth, but he was keen and enthusiastic, which more than made up for his inability to take Kylo deep. Kylo made sure to show him how it was done in return. It wasn’t always that, though. The night before, they had just lain side by side and taken care of themselves at the same time. Kylo had remarkable stamina when he set his mind to it, and Hux had come first. He had watched, rapt, as Kylo finished, spattering himself with pearly spend. Hux had reached over to his belly and run his fingertips through it before popping them into his mouth and sucking them clean. He used the nearby towel, after, to wipe them both up.

Despite their newfound intimacy in bed, they were still cool with each other outside of it. In the mornings, Kylo would get up to meditate as he always did and, as he was finishing, Hux would come into the common room for breakfast. He still changed his clothes behind closed doors, only showing himself at night. And even then, they illuminators were off and Kylo knew more of him by touch and taste than by sight. Kylo had considered leaving the lights up, but lost his nerve by the time Hux was rolling over to his side of the bed and grasping under the sheets for his cock.

They said little before the day began in earnest, though Kylo had been lingering after his meditation just to see if Hux would speak to him. He didn’t, instead just eating the gray slop he somehow preferred to fruit, cheese, and bread. By the time Kylo got out of the shower, he was already gone.

Kylo had been spending much of his time scouring what digital records he had put together or had dredged up researching the location of a cache of kyber crystals refined by the masters of the Old Republic and hidden after its fall. There were only rumors in some places, a few moderately credible sources mixed in, but he thought he had its location triangulated to a mostly abandoned moon in the Core. A long-ago battle had torn the moon’s surface to shreds and made it uninhabitable, but it was said that there were tunnels beneath the ruins of buildings where the cache had been locked away.

Kylo had no particular use for the crystals, but they were at least of more value unearthed than buried in some forgotten warren. Getting the Core would be difficult, however. The First Order hadn’t been welcome there in years and any shuttle with its tech and emblems would be stopped by the New Republic peacekeepers and turned back. Kylo didn’t need that kind of scrutiny, especially since the footage of him and Knights had debuted on the holonet some years ago. He wasn’t _that_ well-known, but his mask and those of the Knights were recognizable. If he went, he would have to secure unmarked transport and go in disguise.

It would take planning and it would force him away from the _Finalizer_ for a week, maybe more. He’d have to bring it up with Hux, too. He expected to be laughed at if he said he was about to go masquerading in costume as some kind of trader in a beat-up wreck of a shuttle to find more “trinkets” for their quarters. Hux had come to tolerate the things Kylo had placed around the space and no longer pointedly pushed the Polian fertility idol that stood on the table beside the sofa out of the way before he sat there. The idea that he could break it was ludicrous; it was solid bronze.

In the end, Kylo doubted Hux would object to him leaving to take care of his own tasks. He might catch some mockery for the roundabout way he would have to sneak into the Core, but Hux did most times take him seriously. He even asked about Kylo’s his days sometimes, and at dinner the night before, he had brought up the fact that Kylo didn’t seem to fiddle with his lightsaber as much as he had when they were young. Kylo had looked up at him over their savory pie and said, “No.”

“Did you replace the crystal, then?” Hux had asked as he pushed a piece of gravy-covered meat onto his fork.

Kylo had been surprised. “You remember that?”

“Certainly,” Hux had told him. “It’s not a terribly complicated weapon, once you get down to the mechanics of it. It requires a power source and some modulators to manage the energy flow, but the blade comes from the kyber crystal. Yours was damaged—unstable.”

“It still is,” Kylo had said. “I just learned to manage the components better. Got new materials. I still have to replace them every few months, but not weekly, anymore.”

“Mm, interesting.”

Kylo had raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Do you really mean that?”

Hux had regarded him with his unwavering gaze. “Yes, Ren, I do. I find weapons tech quite fascinating.”

The saber always hung at Kylo’s hip, even as he sat at the dinner table, and it had felt heavier just then. “Do you want to see it?” he had asked.

“Now?”

“When we’re done.”

Hux had pursed his lips, stewing over his reply, but then said, “Very well.”

After the meal was finished, they went into the common room, Kylo unclipping the saber from his belt. He deliberated over where to sit for a few seconds before gesturing for Hux to bring his chair over to his desk. He did, the legs scraping across the floor.

“You could have carried it,” Kylo muttered at the noise.

“Perhaps,” said Hux. He settled next to Kylo, looking at the saber with expectation.

From his desk drawer, Kylo drew his tools and set the box on the desktop next to the saber. With precision borne of habit, he eased the casing open and revealed the inner workings. Hux leaned over, examining it.

“It’s been well-used,” he said. “You’ve had this hilt since you built it, haven’t you?”

“Since the crystal cracked and I had to add the vents,” said Kylo. “Seven years, give or take.”

Hux reached for it, but, seeing Kylo tense, stopped and sought permission: “May I?”

Kylo reluctantly handed the hilt over.

Hux didn’t hesitate to reach in and start touching components. “These are duraplas-coated copper wires, are they not?” he asked, pointing to the blue wires lining the interior.

“They are,” Kylo replied.

“Those are what you have to replace most often.” It wasn’t a question. Hux pried one up and pulled it free of its connection. “They burn out from the heat. You should try molybdenum wires.”

“Moly-what?” Kylo said.

Hux snorted, as if it was something everyone knew and Kylo was just dim. “Molybdenum. It’s an alloy made specifically to tolerate high temperatures. The melting point of most metals is two hundred degrees Celsius, but for molybdenum it’s over fifteen hundred degrees. They’re not plas-coated, so they’re more volatile if you don’t ground them, but you have pathways here”—he traced his finger along the gullies Kylo had fashioned within the hilt to fit the wires that connected its constituent parts—“that are more than adequate for that. If you replaced them, I should expect you won’t ever have to do so again.”

Kylo blinked at him and then looked down at the saber. “Where would I get them?”

“I can have them requisitioned for you. Not much is needed. It shouldn’t be expensive. I can have them here within a week or two, I should think.”

“That would be...good,” Kylo had said. “Uh, thank you.”

Hux had nodded, businesslike. “It will save you some time, which I’m sure you could put to better use.”

Kylo had eyed him sidelong. “Because everything is about maximizing your time.”

“Of course it is,” Hux had said. “Speaking of, I have some messages to attend to, if you’ll excuse me.”

As easy as that, a relaxed, tension-free moment had been broken, returning them to their discomfiting silence. Kylo had put the saber back together and, unwilling to sit in uneasy quiet for another three hours, had gone into their bedroom to read on his datapad. When Hux had sucked him off that night, Kylo had been a little rough with him, but he hadn’t complained.

In the next few days, little changed in their days, until that afternoon, when Kylo had learned far too late that they had arrived in orbit around Turinn XI and that the _Finalizer_ had orders to subdue a native population in order to help some allies. He had Hux were meant to command as one and work together to complete their missions, and this was their first chance at that. But Hux had laid the attack plans and ordered a unit of troopers deployed without even consulting Kylo. Kylo had stormed up to the bridge and demanded to know why Hux hadn’t apprised him of it. Hux had tried to keep him calm, but Kylo had already been furious.

“This is not the place to do this, Ren,” Hux had said, just before they were at each other’s throats.

“I don’t care,” Kylo had snarled in reply. “Tell me why you left me out of this.”

Now, they were facing each other down on the walkway above all the techs’ and navigators’ stations, the whole discussion having devolved into a shouting match.

“It doesn’t make sense to send a whole unit of troopers to put down _one_ insurgent base,” Kylo was saying. “It’s overkill.”

“I’m not letting you and your little band of wizards take this on,” Hux said to him with barbed disapproval. “Seven people can’t handle a base with over thirty combatants.”

Kylo curled his gloved fists, roiling with anger. “You have no concept of what we can do. This has to be covert. We’ll handle it without tipping off the entire insurgency’s leadership.”

“These are special operations troopers, Ren,” Hux said. “They are more than capable of getting something done quietly.” He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring. “If you had bothered to learn about the program, you would know.”

“It’s _your_ program,” Kylo snapped. “Do you want to know exactly what I’m doing in my training, or where I go when I have _private_ errands?”

Hux gave a dismissive roll of his eyes. “No, I don’t have time to mind you. But if you’re going to insist of being a part of my ground operations, you’re going to have to get a handle on the troopers that will be there with you.”

Kylo took a menacing step toward him. “I told you _we don’t need them_. The Knights can handle themselves.”

“ _No_ ,” said Hux. “I’m not putting this entire operation in the hands of people I don’t trust.”

Reeling back, Kylo said darkly, “You don’t trust me?”

Hux hesitated, clearly weighing his response, but then said: “Have you given me a reason to?”

Kylo backed down, drawing away from him, even if not a full step. “I see,” he said bitterly. “Fine. If that’s what you want.”

Hux sighed, letting his arms fall to his sides. “Ren,” he started, softer.

“No,” Kylo said, cutting him off before he could say more. “You made yourself perfectly clear. We’re done.” Sweeping past Hux, he left the bridge and went directly to the lift that would take him down and away from the command decks.

He was vibrating with fury. For all the sniping that he and Hux did, he had been under the impression that Hux at least thought him capable of taking control of a single base, and that he had some small measure of trust in him. But he should have known better. Hux had little to no respect for him; that much was evident. Kylo slammed his fist into the wall of the lift, the pain a grounding ache. The good nights, like the one where they worked on his saber, were outnumbered by days like this, when Hux proved that he still thought Kylo was useless.

Personnel in the passageways scattered as Kylo went by on his way to the training level. He hadn’t commed the Knights. Instead, he went to the changing room alone and, stripping out of his tunic, headed to the gym to lift the heaviest weights he could without doing severe damage to his body. He started at the leg press and channeled his rage into exertion.

He was trembling, exhausted and sweat-soaked, some two hours later. He could take a shower in the changing room, but he preferred the privacy of his own shower cubicle in his and Hux’s quarters. (What he wouldn’t gave given for his own in that moment.) Tunic slung over his shoulder, he made the journey back up to the residential decks. To his potent frustration, Hux was already there when he arrived. The look he got as he walked through the door could have curdled blue milk.

Kylo was prepared to storm right past him, but Hux called, “I do hope you’re satisfied with yourself. Gossip about your little temper tantrum has already made the rounds of the ship.”

Stopping dead, Kylo gave him a fierce scowl. “Of course you would put this all on me. It’s always my fault.”

Hux set his hands on his skinny hips. “I’m not completely unwilling to blame myself, but in this case, it _was_ your fault. You made a scene on a bridge and so help me, Ren, I will not stand for that again. We looked ridiculous, and the whole ship is laughing at us.”

“If you had just told me about the mission planetside, it wouldn’t have been a problem,” Kylo said. “We could have talked about it privately. But you just went ahead and gave your orders because your ideas are the only ones that matter, right?”

“I _am_ the military commander,” said Hux. “You’ve never put together an offensive. I’ve spent my entire life preparing for moments like this one. You can’t really just expect me to roll over and let you take charge.”

Kylo ground his teeth. “When my plan makes sense, I do.”

Hux, shaking his head, said, “Did you think that maybe I wanted to do something more noticeable? You said ‘covert,’ but that’s not what I was planning on. We have to show the might of the First Order to our enemies.”

“Then you could have let us go and also sent the troopers,” Kylo said. “This is a joint effort.”

“But it’s not really,” Hux countered. “You weren’t placed on this ship to lead military operations. You have your own duties to attend to. Leave me to mine.”

Kylo approached him, trying to look down his nose despite his scant two inches of height on Hux. “Is that what you think co-commander means?”

Hux was sucking his teeth, clearly displeased. “This command was meant to be mine alone. It should have been my chance to prove to the Supreme Leader that I’m capable of being a general. You can do what you want, but you’ll not countermand my orders.”

“Kriff that!” said Kylo forcefully. “We lay plans together or not at all. I won’t just stand by and let your troopers do all the fighting. The Knights are invaluable in some places.”

“ _Some_ places,” Hux said. “Not this one.”

Kylo snatched the tunic from his shoulders, balled it up, and threw it against the bulkhead—a feeble display, but the only one he could muster at the moment without reaching out with the Force and strangling his husband. What a sham that title was, too. He pointed at Hux’s face, menacing. “Before the next operation, you _will_ tell me what you’re planning. Maybe I won’t be involved, but I want to know what’s going on. Understood?”

Hux slapped his hand away. “Don’t give me orders. I’ll do it if I must, but I won’t wait around while you come up from you training to meet. We’ll have a schedule that you’ll keep to.”

“You’re not my commander,” Kylo said. “My time is just as important as yours.”

“Hardly,” Hux scoffed. “You think I don’t notice you doing nothing at night? You don’t have a quarter of the tasks I have. Meet when I expect you or not at all.”

Kylo had never been more tempted to hit him than he was now, but he held back, choosing instead to say petulantly “Kriff this” and retreat to the refresher, shutting the door behind him with finality. He turned on the water in the shower, using the few seconds he had before it warmed up to strip out of his clothes. He left them in a pile on the floor and stepped under the hot water. Face turned up into the stream, he tried to get a hold of himself.

Knowing that Hux was aware of how he had little to do in the evenings was more humiliating that he had expected. Kylo tried to claim that he kept busy, but Hux saw through the lie. He was right to say his tasks weren’t as intensive as Hux’s and it chafed to think Hux could hold that over him. Did he always seek the upper hand, Kylo wondered. Probably.

“Bastard,” Kylo spat as he began to vigorously scrub soap over his body to wash away the sweat.

He started when he heard from outside the shower cubicle: “I don’t appreciate being called names.”

Kylo shot a glance at the shower door just in time to catch a very naked Hux slipping through it and into the cubicle. “What do you think you’re doing?” Kylo demanded.

Hux heaved a put-upon sigh, reaching out catch some water in his hands. “Making amends. I don’t want to leave you on bad terms. Not anymore, anyway.” The water spilled from his palms and he turned them and laid one and then the other on Kylo’s chest. “Despite my efforts to remain composed when we argue, I sometimes don’t manage it and say things that are...somewhat unreasonable.”

Kylo snorted. “You don’t say.” He nearly yelped when Hux pinched his left nipple, hard.

“Don’t be a pain in the arse right now,” Hux said. “I’m making an effort at a truce.”

“Fine,” said Kylo. “Are you saying you’ll actually make time for me to join you in your lonesome scheming?”

Hux wrinkled his nose, but Kylo pulled back before he could pinch the other nipple. He looked even more displeased then. “Yes. We’ll find a way to make it happen.” The next word was said acidly: “Compromise.”

Kylo eyed him, but then reached for his waist, curling his hands around his sides. The hot water had turned his delicate skin red and his hair was darker in the places where it was damp. Kylo made to guide him under the water, but he resisted.

“Have you washed?” he asked curtly.

“Yes,” Kylo replied. “Why?”

Grabbing him by the shoulders, Hux shoved him toward the wall, making Kylo turn and brace himself against it.

“What are you—” he started, but cut himself off as Hux dropped into a crouch behind him, took a firm hold of both buttocks, and buried his face between them. He went straight to work with his tongue, circling Kylo’s ass in swirls and then long strokes with the flat.

Never in all his twenty-three years would Kylo have guessed that Armitage Hux would be in this position, greedily tonguing Kylo’s most private places. He wasn’t shy about it in the least, pushing past the rim and shallowly _into_ Kylo. They had been intimate for days now, but they had never gone so far as to play like this. Kylo didn’t even know if Hux even liked his ass touched, and he hadn’t asked. Hux hadn’t, either, before, but Kylo wasn’t about to protest. He loved both this and more, the prospect of which had his cock growing hard between his legs. Letting his head down between his braced arms, he groaned.

Hux fumbled blindly around his hip to get a hand around him, but Kylo brushed it away. “I’ll do that,” he said. “You just keep going.” It wasn’t said like a command, instead more like encouragement. To make that even more clear, Kylo added, “It’s really good.”

In response, Hux spread him wider and kept at his entrance, pushing inside and then pulling out again to lave at the rim.

Kylo didn’t bother to stroke himself slowly, but set right into it, grabbing some soap to ease the way. Since he was out of the water, it wasn’t quickly washed from his skin. It felt incredible, especially with the high of temper still running through him. He had never had sex angry before and he had to admit that it was better than he might have thought.

Hux shifted behind him—surely his knees were hurting by now—so Kylo sped his pace until he was coming against the shower wall, crying out as the pleasure burned through him. Hux gave him a last few, strangely tender laps before he stood. He made a little grunt of pain as his knees popped. “Took you long enough,” he grumbled.

Kylo’s hand shot out, fingers grasping at Hux’s pink nipple and giving it a solid pinch.

“Ouch!” Hux cried, trying to push him away.

“See how you like it,” said Kylo.

“Oh, shut up.” Hux put his hands back on Kylo’s pectorals, pushing them together. The pendent at Kylo wore around his neck hung between them.“I want to fuck your chest,” Hux said.

Kylo’s eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. “Are you serious?”

Hux shot him a look. “I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t.”

Kylo had never thought of it before, but he supposed it was possible. They couldn’t do that here, though. Reaching behind Hux, he shut off the water. “Come on,” he said as he latched onto Hux’s wrist and pulled him out of the cubicle.

They didn’t bother to dry themselves, and while it was chilly, Kylo was sure they wouldn’t be for long. He led Hux to their bed and, sitting down, slid back to make space for him. On hands and knees, Hux crawled toward him, straddling his waist. Droplets of water ran down from his wet hair, leaving trails over his neck and shoulders.

“Lubricant,” he said.

Kylo hesitated. As far as he knew, they didn’t have any. They hadn’t needed it, after all. “I don’t know,” he said.

Hux huffed and leaned over to his bedside table. From the drawer he pulled a little black bottle. “This will have to do, then.”

“What is it?” Kylo asked.

Hux flipped the cap up and poured a generous helping of the stuff into his palm. “The oil I use for my hands when they’re dry. The recirculated air is terrible for them.”

Kylo almost laughed, but kept his composure. “Right,” he said.

As if he could read Kylo’s amusement, Hux frowned, but he kept quiet and took his handful of oil and spread it at the center of Kylo’s chest. He had to move the pendant out of the way. The oil was cool but very slick and would get the job done. Hux used the excess to cover his cock. He then inched his way higher up Kylo’s chest, until he could put it between Kylo’s pectorals.

“Hold them together,” Hux said. Kylo did as he was told and pushed the muscles in to make a very shallow valley. Hux put a hand over his cock to give himself the necessary friction and began to thrust forward and back, slippery and hard against Kylo’s skin.

The whole situation was beyond strange and shouldn’t have been arousing, but Kylo felt his own cock twitch again as he watched the bunch and give of Hux’s abdominal muscles and felt the press of his free hand against his shoulder. Hux’s hair was still dark auburn, but the ends lying across his brow were beginning to dry. His expression was one of deep concentration, though there was pleasure there, too. His eyes were wide open and taking in the way his cock peeked out past his hand with each stroke.

It was the first time they had done this in the light, Kylo realized—the first time he had truly seen Hux’s body so exposed. It was skinny but not bony, lanky but well-proportioned. His thighs were solid under Kylo’s hands, even if not muscular.

“Oh, _hells_ ,” Hux cursed as he continued to thrust against Kylo. “You are just egregious, you know that? Far too big, and unashamed. Seeing you walking around bare-chested every morning is just disgusting.”

Kylo looked hard at him, reading the lust in his tone despite the insults. “How long have you been thinking about doing this?”

Hux gave a particularly hard thrust, his seat bones digging into Kylo’s ribs. “You don’t deserve to know that.”

Letting go of his thigh, Kylo brought a hand around and slapped him hard on the buttock. “Tell me, Hux. How long have you wanted to get your cock on my chest?”

“Since I bloody saw it, all right?” he said, voice strained. “You’re built to be used like this. How was I supposed to keep from thinking about it?”

“‘Used,’” Kylo said, low.

Hux bent down to get a better angle, looking at Kylo through black eyes. “Tell me you don’t want me to use you.”

Kylo brought the words up, but as he watched Hux steadily losing control, he said, “Fine. Use me.”

Groaning out a curse, Hux gave a last few thrusts and then Kylo felt him spill all over his collarbones and neck, hot and sticky. Hux was shaking as he finally came to a stop, out of breath and gripping hard on Kylo’s right shoulder. He swore again, chin dropping to his chest.

As Kylo came down from the rush of it, he realized what he had said. He would just let Hux treat him like a convenient body rather than...well, a lover. Regret and shame bubbled up inside his oil-slick chest. He was better than that, but in the throes he had hadn’t been thinking straight. What this was going to mean for them, he couldn’t be sure, but he didn’t think it would be good.

Hux rolled off of him shortly after, standing at the side of the bed expectantly.

“What?” Kylo asked, a little stiffly.

“Are you going to come wash up, or would you prefer to be filthy for the rest of the evening?”

With a grumble, Kylo got out of bed to join him the shower again. They said very little as they soaped the oil from their skin and then toweled off. Kylo got to briefly enjoy the view of Hux’s pink ass as he walked across to his wardrobe and pulled out his sleep pants and a long-sleeved shirt. He put on socks, too. Kylo dressed in his own lounge trousers and a t-shirt.

“Are you hungry?” Hux said as he crossed into the common room.

It was still an hour earlier than the usual time they sat down, but Kylo could eat. He told Hux as much.

“Very well, then. I’ll call for the droids. It shouldn’t take them too long to prepare it.” He went through to the dining room and placed the order, and then he sat at his end of the table and waited with his hands folded in his lap.

It was bizarre to see him in such informal clothes in his proper place and with his proper posture, but Kylo found that it softened him a way he actually liked. He was very much the same man he would be in his uniform, and yet Kylo was the one person who would see him like this. It brought on something unusually possessive, which caught him off guard. He wanted to keep this Hux for himself.

The first of the serving droids came with wine for Hux and bread for Kylo, which he dug into right away. He wasn’t expecting it when Hux took a slice, too, and a pat of butter. He tore it into bite-sized pieces and buttered each one at a time, fittingly prim.

“If all goes as planned planetside,” he said between bites, “we’ll debrief together about how the mission went and make arrangements for what will happen next. Is that agreeable to you?”

“I think so,” said Kylo. “But if everything’s in order, I need to go away for a few days.”

Hux cocked an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Kylo explained about the kyber crystal cache and, reluctantly, his plan to infiltrate the Core.

“That’s sensible,” Hux said when he was finished. “Are you able to procure an unmarked transport for yourself? Civilian clothes?”

“I’ve done it before, yes,” said Kylo. “I’ll take care of it after we debrief.”

“Good, then I’ll leave you to it.”

Their food arrived—fish filets with some kind of beans and root vegetables—and they ate quietly. It wasn’t as restive a meal as it had been in the past. Kylo chalked it up the sex. While they weren’t always able to agree on things, that was something they did well together. It was some of the best sex Kylo had had in years, and, he remembered, would be the only sex he would be getting for the rest of his life. They were bound by their vows in that.

“Do you have a lot of messages tonight?” Kylo asked as they were finishing up.

Hux laid down his fork and knife. “The usual, I should think.” The corner of his mouth turned up. “What will you do?”

Kylo shrugged. “The usual, I should think.”

“So, nothing of consequence?”

“I’ll need to start requisitioning the things I’ll need for the trip,” Kylo said, “but after that I might as well just watch a holo.”

Hux tipped his head to the side. “I can’t think of the last time I did that. What genres do you like?”

“All kinds of things,” Kylo replied. Slyly: “You can pick, if you’re interested.”

Hux dabbed his napkin at his mouth and said, “No, thank you.”

He went to his desk after the dishes were cleared and presumably set to work. Kylo settled down on the blue sofa in front of the holoprojector and chose something to watch. For once, he didn’t feel the weight of Hux’s judgment and let himself enjoy the evening.

 

* * *

 

 

**Hux**

The ease with which Hux fell into the habit of sex with his husband should have unsettled him, but he found that it didn’t; the change in their habits came almost naturally after his resolve had finally broken and he had, infuriated and painfully aroused, grabbed Ren by the cock and pleasured him until he was all but begging to come. And then, stars take him, Hux had licked his spend from him. He didn’t crave the taste, per se, but the act itself set him aflame. It had taken all of his willpower not to finish himself off after Ren had come, instead falling into a very bitter sleep.

The discomfort of the next morning had been nearly unbearable, but Hux had had no concrete idea how to proceed. He had been thinking with his own cock when he had touched Ren’s and after, when he had command of himself again and was acting rationally, he was at a loss. It was for that reason that he had done everything in his power to avoid returning to their quarters that evening, but, in the end, he had been forced to. The confrontation with Ren had, quite unexpectedly, ended with Ren’s mouth around his cock. It had been _good_ —so much so that Hux had reached for him the next night, and the one after that, and again, until it was just expected.

Hux couldn’t have anticipated Ren’s insinuation that he had once upon a time sent a cadet to train him for when he came into Hux’s bed, and it kept coming to mind even days after Ren had said it. Hux had not been grooming a lover for himself by any means, but he couldn’t deny that he was extremely pleased with the skills Ren had acquired. He was more than competent, maybe even better than a number of the men Hux had been with in his life. He was attentive and quick to learn what Hux liked, and he wasn’t tentative about anything. He fucked the way he behaved in anything else: brash and passionate.

And a proper fucking was something Hux had been thinking about more and more. Though it had only been a week since they had begun their new routine, the idea had been humming in the back of Hux’s thoughts at unexpected times of day. In a meeting one beta shift, his attention had been drifting and he had been imagining what Ren’s cock would feel like inside of him. Hux bent over for very few men, but he was willing to do it for Ren, if only to know how his body would stretch to accommodate him. Ren had a very handsome cock, which Hux admired a great deal. His own was smaller and narrower, but he had no reason to feel inadequate, especially considering the way Ren could get it all the way down his throat.

They had yet to discuss going there, however. That was if they even discussed it at all. They weren’t particularly good at speaking civilly, and words had a limited place in their bedroom. Hux had taken a chance in the shower after they had been having yet another disagreement by tonguing his ass, but when he was receptive to it, Hux extrapolated that he would be willing to move in that direction. He had yet to press the matter, but he hadn’t had much of a chance. Ren had left for his quest to retrieve kyber crystals in the Core just two days after.

He had disappeared before Hux had woken, and it was odd not to see him sitting in meditation on the common room floor when Hux came out of the ‘fresher. Even stranger was sitting at the dining table that night to eat alone. Hux had convinced himself that he would be glad for the space in bed and the quiet to work, but the silence was so noticeable that he was distracted. The last few nights, he had actually put on holos in the background while he replied to messages. When he had lain down to sleep, the bed had seemed too empty and too cold.

His right hand on his cock, too, was a poor simulacrum of Ren’s and certainly no match for his mouth. Hux found himself disappointed with the orgasms, even if they were objectively good. Ren had been gone for five days, and Hux found that he was marking their passing and wondering when he would return. He had realized that he had no way of reaching Ren while he was off of the _Finalizer_. Before, Hux hadn’t wanted to contact him, but he _was_ venturing into a part of the galaxy hostile to the First Order and it would have been a reassurance to know he was at least in one piece.

Sitting at his desk in their quarters now, Hux chided himself for playing the overly concerned spouse. Ren was more than capable of taking care of himself—as he had so often demonstrated during their annual visits on the _Supremacy_. Hux paused to consider what Ren might say if he asked to come watch one of his training sessions. Perhaps they were meant to be private when not arranged by Snoke for Hux’s benefit, but Hux was curious what his reaction might be. True, he could flatly turn him down and storm off in a huff, and yet Hux could imagine the bemused look on his face as he processed the request: surprise but not dismissal.

Hux tapped his console’s screen to minimize his inbox and bring up the some of the First Order’s best propaganda holos. He wasn’t yet featured in any of them, but he planned to be in the future, when his father stepped down and he could be the mouthpiece for the Order. He was a keen orator and took pride in the speeches he gave to the troopers. Phasma said they were very impassioned.

It didn’t take much searching to find the holo that included the footage of Ren and his Knights in action. Hux tapped one to view it. He didn’t recognize the planet they were on as the steady camera panned across a dark, forested landscape, but where they were didn’t matter; as soon as Ren ignited his deadly red lightsaber, it was the center of attention.

The seven black-clad Knights tore through an onslaught of opponents, cutting them down bloodlessly after the cauterization of the energy weapons. Warfare was far less gruesome since the advent of blasters and kyber-generated blades. Hux thought that a kind of loss—first blood was only a metaphor—but Ren was still frightful in his battle rage. Hux watched him swing his saber in wide, savage arcs and then stab the blade through a man’s chest. All who came before him fell.

After the first holo, Hux found another and then one more after that. When he had watched them all, he started again. He had told Ren that he didn’t believe the Knights capable of handling the compound on Turinn XI, but looking at what they could do on the battlefield, he would have to change his future plans to include them. Ren had been honed his whole life into a weapon that Hux should have already put to use. Of course, he couldn’t phrase it in a way that implied he was ordering Ren to do something. He’d have to make it look like it was Ren’s idea. That would be an annoyance, but Hux had done worse things to accommodate difficult people in his twenty-eight years.

He was so engrossed in the holos that he barely heard it when the door to the common room slid open. The heavy footsteps coming toward him, however, caught his attention, and he hurriedly paused the playback.

Ren, with his helmet on and his cowl up, stood by the blue sofa as if he had walked out of the holo right then. There was a kind of burning ozone smell in the air, too, that only enhanced the fantasy. Hux was stuck in his chair for a few moments, unable to do anything but take in Ren’s fearsome appearance. The tensity was only broken when Ren put his cowl back and released the catches of his helmet. By the time he had it off, Hux was standing.

“You’re back,” Hux said.

With his helmet off, Ren looked tired. His eyes were sunken and cheeks drawn; it was as if he hadn’t slept at all since he had left. His hair was a mess, too: greasy and tangled. That seemed quite out of character; he usually kept himself clean and tidy.

“Are you all right?” Hux asked when Ren said nothing.

Ren set his helmet down on the sofa cushion. “Yes” was his simple answer.

Hux gripped the back of his desk chair, debating whether or not it would be a good idea to approach him. “You don’t look it.” He almost winced. That sounded far more harsh than he had intended. “I mean that you seem to have been put through the wringer. Did it go badly?”

Slowly, Ren tugged off his gloves, putting them next to his helmet. He was still conspicuously quiet, and it was discomfiting. Hux didn’t know how to behave with him like this.

“Ren?” he pressed. “Are you unwell?”

The eyes that met his were weary but searching. What he was looking for, though, Hux didn’t know.

Twitchy with uneasiness, Hux defaulted to addressing basic needs: “It’s late. Have you eaten anything?”

Ren’s brow creased as if hunger was a concept he didn’t quite grasp. “No,” he said.

“Then I’ll order something for you,” said Hux, finally able to move closer to him. He wasn’t sure if Ren would accept a touch just then, but he gestured for him to move toward the bedroom. “Go and clean yourself up. Put on something...less, and I’ll have dinner for you when you’re finished.”

Ren stayed perfectly still for a few seconds, looking at Hux uncomprehendingly, but when Hux grasped his elbow and encouraged him, he took a few shuffling steps nearer the bedroom door.

“Off you go,” Hux said, far too mothering. “Have a shower. You’re filthy.” He got a snort for that, which at least gave some indication that Ren was listening to him.

He stopped at the threshold as Ren passed over it and into the bedroom. He made straight for the ‘fresher, into which he disappeared. Hux stood looking at the closed door, trying to make sense of all this, but then went to his console to call for a droid to bring Ren’s dinner. He emphasized that it should be hot and savory.

While Ren was in the shower, Hux went to the sofa and picked up his helmet. It was lighter than he might have expected and it smelled a little of sweat. Hux wrinkled his nose, hoping Ren had it cleaned from time to time. The gloves Ren had cast aside were battered and stretched to fit his hands. Hux thought they were, perhaps, his only pair. He himself had at least four pairs of duty gloves that he rotated so as not to break any of them too far in. As soon as they started to show signs of wear, he replaced them. Yet another incongruous thing about the two of them, this; even the little quirks of their wardrobes were misaligned.

The droid arrived a few minutes later, taking a covered plate into the dining room and setting it down at Ren’s place. Hux hadn’t asked for anything himself, but he went to the his desk drawer and poured a glass of brandy. He was standing behind his chair with one hand poised on its backrest and the other curled around his tumbler when Ren—wet-haired and casually dressed and looking less haggard—came into the room. He glanced between Hux and his plate as if waiting for permission to go to it.

“Eat before it gets cold,” Hux said, tipping his tumbler toward Ren’s chair.

Ren uncovered his food and, upon smelling it, seemed to brighten. He went into it with gusto while Hux sat, sipped his brandy, and kept his counsel. Ren would speak when he wanted to; there was no point to badgering him until he did.

“You’re staring,” he said in time, between bites, though he barely looked up from his plate. “Why?”

Hux sat back in his chair, glad the brandy eased his nerves. “Am I not permitted to look at you?”

Ren grunted. “I’m not sick or hurt, if that’s what you’re trying to puzzle out.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” said Hux. “Though I assume if you were, you would be down in the medbay.”

“Don’t like medics,” Ren muttered as he chewed. “Unless it’s something that takes more than a bacta patch, I don’t go to them.”

Hux took a slow sip of brandy, unsurprised. Ren didn’t have many scars, but the few on his abdomen and arms would have healed more cleanly had he been to see someone about them. Surely the _Supremacy_ had top-of-the-line medical facilities. “Do they make you uncomfortable?” Hux asked.

Ren shot him a glare across the table. “No. They’re just nosy and prod you with needles. Are those things _you_ look forward to?”

“They are not,” said Hux, “but if I’m unwell, I’ll go to them.” He sniffed. “Fortunately I’m not often sick.”

“Me neither,” Ren said. “‘Fortunately.’” He went back to eating, and Hux considered just getting up and leaving him there, but he remained seated.

“Did you find your kyber crystals, then?”

Ren stilled, slowly setting down his fork and knife. He drank from his water glass before he replied: “Some of them. There were only fifteen. My sources said hundreds. I missed something, somewhere.”

“Did you bring them back aboard?” said Hux. “You must have a use for them.”

“They’re here, but I don’t really have much I can do with them.” He traced his thumb through the condensation on his glass. “They were meant for sabers—cut exactingly—but there aren’t any Jedi, anymore.”

“Was there really any reason to go through all this trouble to dig them up, then?” Hux said. At Ren’s frown, he raised a hand. “I don’t mean to say that you wasted your time on some foolish errand. Don’t get tetchy about it. It’s a valid question, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Ren said begrudgingly. “I might be able to build something with them.”

Hux nodded, as if that was a truly sensible answer. It wasn’t, but he wasn’t going to say that. “May I see them, perhaps?”

“I need to clean them first, but after that,” Ren replied.

“Certainly,” Hux said.

Ren glanced back at his plate, but then pushed it an inch or so away, signalling he was finished. With eyes closed, he rolled his head back and groaned, stretching his arms above his head.

“What’s the matter?” asked Hux.

“I’m sore,” Ren said. “We didn’t do any fighting, but we had to move a few hundred pounds of stone by hand.”

Hux raised an eyebrow. “You can’t use the Force for that?”

Ren shrugged. “If you want to sap your energy, but we had the time and the hands. It only took a couple of hours.”

“ _Hours_?” Hux said, taken aback. “Surely it would have been easier to—”

“I actually like to use my body,” said Ren, cutting him off. “It’s good to be sore once in a while.”

Hux disapprovingly told him, “I use mine.”

“For what?” Ren countered.

“You know perfectly well what.” He got a blank look and then the dawning of realization. To his annoyance, some heat came into his face.

“Sex doesn’t actually count as exercise,” said Ren smugly. “At least not the kind we have.” He blinked once, slow and thoughtful. “Unless you’re considering something a little more aerobic.”

Hux had been recently and, from Ren’s sly expression, it was quite evident.

Ren lowered his arms and put the flats of his hands on the table. “I’ll consider it, but not tonight. Right now I just want to lie down in a real bed and get some sleep.”

“Of course,” Hux said, terse. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“You’re not coming?” Ren asked.

“I thought you might like to rest without me for a while,” Hux replied. “If you want a soft bed and space to rest, I can come later, when you’re already sleeping.”

Ren shook his head. “Just come to bed, Hux. Sleep with me.”

It was such a benign request and yet it struck Hux as far more intimate than if Kylo had dragged him to their bedroom and had his way with him. There was no demand in it, only the asking. Hux found he was unable to refuse, and he got to his feet, abandoning his empty brandy glass on the dining table. Ren came alongside him, both of them going together into the bedroom.

Hux had yet to shower and clean his teeth, but went Ren sat down at the edge of the bed and beckoned him closer, he went. Ren parted his knees and drew Hux between them, until Ren’s head was at the level of his chest. With steady hands, Ren reached up to the collar of Hux’s uniform jacket and unfastened the closures. Hux wanted to ask him what he was doing, but it was a needless question; it was plain he just wanted to remove Hux’s clothes. The why of it was something Hux, for once, didn’t venture to think about.

Ren worked his way down, until he could part the sides of the jacket and help Hux to shrug it over his shoulders. Hux let it fall and didn’t bother to pick it up and hang it. He could put this one through to the laundry. Ren moved to the fly of his trousers next, and Hux watched him undo the buttons and slide the zipper down.

“No one’s ever undressed me before,” Hux said, candid. “At least, not like this.”

Ren made a little sound in his throat as he began to push the trousers down Hux’s hips and thighs. Hux had removed his boots earlier in the evening, so it was easy enough to let the trousers pool at his ankles, leaving him in only his regulation undershirt and briefs. He wasn’t quite aroused, but Ren certainly had his attention.

Ren put his hands along the outsides of Hux’s thighs and ran them up to his hips. “That doesn’t surprise me,” he said. “You’re not very permissive, and sometimes I can’t tell if you like it when I touch you or not.” His grip tightened at Hux’s middle. “ _Do_ you?”

“I should have thought it was obvious,” said Hux. “I wouldn’t allow it if I didn’t enjoy it.”

“It’s not just that,” Ren continued, inching the hem of Hux’s undershirt up so he could touch his skin. “You don’t like to be close or show yourself to me—anyone, I’d guess.” He turned his earnest eyes up to meet Hux’s. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

A shudder passed down Hux’s back, which he was sure Ren could feel. “I spent most of my youth in barracks and shared sonic facilities,” he said. “There was no privacy for anyone. The only time I could enjoy that was when I was with you every year. You were the one person for whom I didn’t have to undress. I suppose I wanted to keep it that way.” Ren released his hold on him, but Hux grabbed his wrists and said, firmly, “No. Don’t stop.”

“But you said—”

“I know, but things are very different now than they were when we were boys.” Still with his fingers wrapped around Ren’s wrists, Hux rubbed the soft skin there. “You’re right to say I don’t need to hide. You’ve seen all of me, and had your mouth on a fair bit, too.”

Ren grinned darkly. “There’s more to taste, and I’ll get there. For now, though”—he slowly began to push Hux’s shirt up over his middle—“I just want to sleep. With you.”

Hux was struck. “Did you find it odd to be alone again, too?”

Ren gave a deep nod. “I thought I’d like it better, but I didn’t. I’ve been thinking about getting back here since I left.”

“Do you have a private comm frequency?” Hux asked.

“What?” said Ren, confusion in his face.

Hux ran his hands down along Ren’s arms to his shoulders. “I had no way to reach you while you were away. I think that would be...desirable for the next time.”

Ren’s expression softened into one that was almost bashful. “I’ll set something up. But I’m not leaving for a while, I don’t think.”

“Good,” said Hux, the word leaving his tongue before he had the sense to stop it.

He couldn’t regret it, though, when Ren gave him a hopeful look that made him seem far more innocent than the merciless warrior in the holos. He was so open at times, as if assuaged when he was reassured of being wanted. Snoke had surely made that clear to him over the years: he was special. And yet hearing that Hux wanted his company was just as potent was something Hux had to wonder at. Now, however, was not the time to ask.

“Would you like me to rub your back some?” he said, squeezing Ren’s shoulders. “If you’re sore, it might help.”

Ren moved them under Hux’s hands. “Are you good at it?”

“Passable,” Hux replied. “But that’s better than nothing, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Ren said with a half-smile. He tugged at Hux’s shirt. “You want to leave this on, then?”

“For now.” He plucked at Ren’s shirt. “But this will have to go.”

Ren didn’t hesitate to grab it by the back of the collar and pull it over his head. The glint of the gold pendant he wore caught Hux’s eye. He paused to pick it up from its place on Ren’s chest.

“Why do you wear this?” he asked, holding the warm gold between thumb and forefingers.

Ren looked down at it and said coolly, “It’s a reminder.”

“Of what?”

“This,” said Ren. “What I swore to you.”

Hux’s brows drew together as he studied both his husband and the pendant. “Is living together not reminder enough?”

Ren shrugged again. “I just like it. You gave it to me. Why wouldn’t you want me to wear it?”

“I didn’t choose it,” said Hux. “I believe my father did. Or perhaps it was all arranged by Snoke. I was eleven years old; I wasn’t able to make that kind of decision. I probably would have offered you a blaster instead.”

Chuckling, Ren said, “That would have made more sense. What did you do with the ring?”

Hux averted his eyes. “Put it in a lockbox. I still have it somewhere, but it’s been a long time since I thought of it.”

“I don’t blame you,” Ren said. “You don’t seem like the type of wear rings, especially not one with a red kyber stone.”

Hux had almost forgotten the details of the ring, but he did recall that its centerpiece was vibrant crimson. “Did you choose that color?”

Ren shook his head. “I was six. If you couldn’t pick a necklace, I couldn’t decide on a ring.”

“Fair enough,” Hux said, amused. He wasn’t exactly sure where he had put that little box, but he thought that perhaps he should look for it. It contained his childhood treasures, all since forgotten. Maybe he wouldn’t wear the ring, but he could at least find it. Letting go of the pendant, he pushed Ren back toward the center of the bed. “Lie down. I’ll work on your back.”

Ren lay on his stomach with his head pillowed on his arms, leaving Hux to settle at the small of his back, straddled across him. It was true he wasn’t a masseur, but he knew the basics and that was all this required. He rubbed his hands together to warm them before taking hold of Ren’s shoulders and starting to work the muscles. Ren sighed under him, nestling his face against his arms.

“Enough pressure?” Hux asked.

“Mm, perfect,” Ren replied, voice muffled.

Hux leaned into the massage, seeking out sore spots and knots, into which he ground his palm until they began to release. Ren told him to focus on a few places that were especially tight, and he did so without question. His hands were achy by the time he had worked all the way down to Ren’s buttocks. He still wore a pair of trousers, but Hux couldn’t help but imagine nuzzling between them to lap at Ren’s ass. His cock jumped at the prospect.

“You all right back there?” Ren asked.

Hux cleared his throat, moving his hips so Ren couldn’t feel his cock through his briefs. “I’m finished. Do you feel any better?”

“Much. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” said Hux, rolling off of him and sitting to his right on the mattress. Ren stayed in place for a moment before turning onto his side and peering up at him. “What?” Hux asked.

“Am I not permitted to look at you?” Ren said, parroting Hux’s own words back at him.

Hux’s reply was wry: “I’m afraid I can’t stop you.”

Ren laid a hand on his thigh. “You like being the center of attention, admit it. Giving your speeches and strutting around the ship in your big, bad coat.”

“You’ve never seen me give a speech,” Hux said.

“Haven’t I?” said Ren.

Hux drew back in surprise. “When?”

Ren’s fingers moved absently down toward his folded knee. “About a week ago. You always accuse me of not know what you do, so I came to look. It was a good speech.”

Such a simple compliment and yet Hux warmed with pride. He kept his tone even as he asked, “Where were you lurking?”

“At the back of the room,” Ren replied. “I didn’t want you to see me, so you didn’t. It would have ruined your focus. You were in your element.” A pause and then: “You’re going to be a perfect general one day.”

Hux paused. Ren had never said any such thing to him before. He should have thanked him, acknowledged him somehow, but instead he said, “I should have let you go planetside on Turinn XI.”

Ren wore his shock openly.

Hux continued: “I watched some of your holos tonight—the ones with you and your Knights. I underestimated you before. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“You really mean that,” said Ren.

Hux nodded. “I do.”

Sitting up slightly, Ren took Hux by the waist and guided him down to lie beside him, face-to-face. Hux settled into the place, his nose mere inches from Ren’s. Ren seemed uncertain, but brought his hand up to Hux’s face, cupping his cheek.

“You’ve only ever kissed me twice,” he said. “That once when I was sixteen and at the wedding. Would you do it again?”

“I’m not accustomed to it,” said Hux. He rested his hand on Ren’s solid bicep. “I can try, though, if you want that.”

Ren brushed his cheekbone with his thumb. “I’m not ‘accustomed’ to it, either. I, ah, never let anyone else...” He gave Hux’s mouth a pointed look.

Hux, startled, parted his lips. “You’re serious? I’m the only one you’ve ever allowed to kiss you?”

“Mmhm,” Ren said. “It started with Ullens not wanting it. He said it wasn’t done in the barracks. After that, I just decided to go without.” He lifted both of his heavy dark eyebrows. “It wasn’t just because I was saving myself for you.”

“You certainly didn’t do that,” said Hux. “And I’m glad. I’ve never wanted to train a virgin. Sounds tedious.”

“Even if you can shape them in exactly the kind of lover you needed?” Ren asked.

Hux snorted. “Not even for that. But”—he brought his fingers up to Ren’s mouth, brushing over his lips—“I suppose I’ll have to train you to kiss me how I like.”

Ren pursed his lips in a kind of kiss against Hux’s fingertips. “And how is that, Hux?”

It depended on the occasion. Sometimes slow and tender was called for and others hard and desperate. For now, it was the former. “Lightly, to start,” he said. “Mouths closed. You get a feel for it first and then a little tongue. Deepen from there.”

“Oh, so you’ll actually let me use my tongue this time?” Ren said dryly. “You didn’t before.”

“You were a teenager,” said Hux, “and I was twenty-one. Did you really expect me to want to spend _five minutes_ kissing you?”

Ren laughed lightly. “You remember that. I thought it was a pretty decent offer back then. Will you give me my five minutes now, then?”

Hux pinched his chin chidingly, but said, “I’ll start the timer.” Ren was still smiling as he kissed him for the third time—lightly, just as he had prescribed.

Hux expected his lips to be soft, but they were full, too, and gave under Hux’s. He kept a hold of Hux’s face as they came together, as if to both draw him in and keep him in place. His response was a pleased little moan when Hux sucked his lower lip into his mouth and invited him into his mouth. In his eagerness, he was sloppy and too forward, but Hux let him sweep his tongue over his own. As they kissed, he moved closer, until he could curl his leg around Hux’s and pull him against his body. Hux went without protest, falling under the charm of Ren’s inexperienced exuberance.

They pressed in and then pulled back to breathe before kissing again. Hux reacted as expected, hardening in his underwear and making Ren aware of it by pressing his cock against his leg. Ren slyly eased a hand down between them until he could cup between Hux’s legs, palming his erection.

“I thought you were too tired,” Hux mumbled against his mouth.

“I am,” said Ren, “but you’re not. I can do this for you.” His clever fingers slid under the waistband of Hux’s briefs until he could grasp his cock, which he stroked quite expertly.

Hux hummed in pleasure, delving back into the kisses. Even if they were still unschooled, the combination of them and Ren’s hand had him too caught up in it to overthink any of it. It took him very little time to climax, coming into this underwear and over Ren’s fist. He had only a few moments to recover before Ren was easing the briefs down and helping him out of his shirt.

“I need to shower,” he said half-heartedly.

“Tomorrow,” said Ren as he lay down on his right side and pulled Hux against his chest, an arm around his waist.

Hux didn’t like to go to sleep with the day’s sweat on him, but he supposed it wouldn’t be too unbearable. And he _was_ tired, and now very comfortable in Ren’s embrace. They’d surely be too hot later, but for now, it was exactly what he needed.


	5. Act IV

## Act IV

**Kylo**

Distraction plagued Kylo’s morning meditation. He was seated on the carpet with his back straight and legs crossed, but his headspace was not as clear nor his attention as focused on the Force has it should have been. Instead, he was thinking of his husband’s warm hands on his back and, even moreso, his lips as they had kissed the night before.

Kylo had been honest with him in confiding that he had never allowed anyone else to kiss him. The only partial untruth he’d told was that he hadn’t been saving himself for Hux. The cadet Hux had sent had indeed forbid him kisses, but Kylo hadn’t wanted them anyway. His appreciation of Ullens’ lessons in sex had been earnest, however Kylo couldn’t have imagined doing anything more with him than that. After each encounter, Ullens had just put his uniform back on and left Kylo’s quarters. Kissing meant something, some closeness that their arrangement didn’t warrant.

All the experiences after Ullens—wide-ranging as they had been—never did, either. Kylo had taken up with strangers for the most part, brief meetings in hotel rooms. Kylo never stayed to sleep with his lovers; again, the only man with whom he had ever shared a bed to sleep was Hux. They were permitted intimacy in their union, even though Hux had told him that they would never have sex. How wrong that had been, Kylo thought, smiling to himself. And so they could kiss, too.

Kylo was afraid he hadn’t been much good at it, but Hux had responded to him, so much so that he had hardened for Kylo to pleasure him. They had left the illuminators up at eighty percent, treating Kylo to the sight of Hux’s face as he built up to his peak and then crested over it. He was stunning like that, and Kylo wanted to see him in the throes more often.

Thinking of it, Kylo was reminded of his half-promise to fuck Hux...properly? He didn’t like that terminology, but “penetration” sounded sterile. What they would do was far from that. He could imagine how he might have Hux from behind, with the sight of his long pale back in front of him, capped by his red-crested head. But he could see Hux under him, too, facing him so Kylo could see his expressions. Kylo was willing to let Hux fuck _him_ if that’s what he wanted, but his fantasies tended toward feeling Hux tight around his cock.

He shifted in his seat on the carpet, trying to control his body’s reaction. He had woken hard and had considered waking Hux with teasing touches. He had stopped himself, though, deciding to let Hux sleep and to follow their usual routine. The meditation should have calmed him, and yet he could still feel the steady hum of arousal. He would have loved to have taken both his cock and Hux’s in hand and brought them off, sullying the black sheets of their bed. The droids could change them after he and Hux got up.

That was passing pleasantly through his mind when the door to their bedroom slid open and Hux appeared—uniform and hair perfectly in order, as always. Kylo would have to resist the urge to muss him and haul him back to bed. As Hux walked by, Kylo got to his feet and popped the joints in his neck as he stretched it. Hux turned, one eyebrow raised.

“That sounded painful,” he said.

“It was good,” said Kylo. He crossed the room and, taking a chance, slid his right arm around Hux’s waist and drew him in for a kiss. Against his mouth, he murmured, “Good morning.”

Hux stood tense for a second or two, but then relaxed into Kylo’s embrace and pressed another, longer kiss to his lips. “And to you,” he said. “How was your meditation?”

“Unfocused,” Kylo replied, brushing his nose against the side of Hux’s face. “I had other things on my mind.”

“Mm, did you?” Hux asked as he raised his hands and set them on Kylo’s bare chest. He circled the nipples with his forefingers

The blood dropped right to Kylo’s cock, and he shifted closer, until he could push his groin against Hux’s thigh. Hux laughed airily.

“Not right now, Ren,” he said. “I don’t have time.”

“I’ll be quick.” Kylo moved up to put a hand in Hux’s hair, but Hux yanked back immediately, extricating himself from Kylo’s embrace.

“Don’t,” Hux told him firmly. “I have things to do. We can do that later.”

Kylo moved his hand down the slippery fabric of Hux’s uniform jacket to his ass and squeezed. “Is that a promise?”

Hux pursed his lips, but nodded. He moved away then, going to call for his breakfast. As he normally did, he took a seat at his desk to wait, picking up his datapad and scrolling through it. Despite knowing that he should leave him and take a shower, Kylo leaned on the side of his desk, putting a hand down so he could see it in his periphery.

Hux glanced up from the datapad. “Is there something you needed?”

“What are you doing today?” asked Kylo, dodging the question. “Are you busy?”

“I’m always busy, Ren. But right now, if you must know, I’m reviewing a message from the foreman of the mining team that’s preparing the chosen planet for my weapon.”

“The Starkiller?” Kylo said. He hadn’t heard about that since Hux had gone before Snoke to address the idea. Apparently, Snoke had given him the permission and resources to build it.

Hux set down his datapad, turning his full attention on Kylo. “You remember that?”

“Of course. You don’t really forget a kyber-powered weapon that can destroy whole planetary systems.” He turned the datapad toward him, skimming the message. Hux didn’t stop him. “How long have you been working on this?”

“Years,” Hux replied. “The process is a slow one. We’ve had to hollow out a great deal of a planet. Construction on the actual weapon should be starting soon.” He lifted his round chin, which accentuated the prominence of his cheekbones. “I’m planning to go and visit it soon to see the progress.”

Kylo slid the datapad out of the way so he could sit on the desktop. “You must be proud. You got what you wanted. Snoke saw the potential.”

Hux was on the verge of smiling, but didn’t quite get there. “Yes. It’s going to be tremendous when it’s complete.”

“What will you do with it?” said Kylo. “Do you have a target?”

“Well,” Hux said hesitantly, “I designed it to put an end to the New Republic. It will make us far stronger and display our true might. What would be more devastating than eliminating the Hosnian system?”

Kylo balked. There were billions of people on Hosnian Prime alone. He had expected a smaller world, or a backwater one, but the seat of the New Republic was something else. Hux clearly saw his reaction and frowned.

“You think it’s terrible,” he said, flat.

Kylo chewed his cheek. “It’s not exactly that. Do you think it’ll really be capable of that?”

“Absolutely.” Hux regarded him with steady, unforgiving eyes. “Do you not want to end the Republic? To bring true Order to the galaxy?”

“Of course I do,” said Kylo. “And if you can help us do that, that’s how it should be.”

Hux’s contemptuous expression faded. “I appreciate your...good opinion.”

Kylo reached out and ran the backs of his knuckles along Hux’s cheek. “You have it. Even if you’re difficult sometimes.” He got a soft laugh for that.

“And that coming from you,” Hux said.

Kylo chuckled. “I know.” He got down from the desk. “I’m going to take a shower. See you at dinner?”

Hux nodded. “Until then.”

The shower Kylo took was quick and, after, he dressed and combed his wet hair. While it dried, he went to his desk and called for breakfast. Hux was long since gone. At the corner of the desk was the small bag into which Kylo had put the kyber crystals from his trip to the Core. He took it and upended it, spilling the crystals onto the desktop, each dropping with a ringing _ping_ on the durasteel. They were all different colors and elegantly cut, but there was a layer of grime on them from decades of concealment in a dusty underground chamber. Even rubbing his thumb over them didn’t clear the dirt away; he would have to use a power brush to polish one after another.

He ate his breakfast quickly—fresh bread; soft, mild cheese; fruit—and then pulled out the collection of tools he used to work on his saber. True to his word, Hux had ordered the heat-resistant wire he had told Kylo about and Kylo had installed it some days before. It held up well, and Kylo hadn’t had to make any major adjustments to the power cells to accommodate the new component. He had mentioned it to Hux in passing and gotten a hum of acknowledgement; it wasn’t necessary to say much more.

With a delicate grinding tool, Kylo began to clear away the dirt from a purple kyber crystal. Unwilling to damage the crystal itself, he went carefully along it until it shone again. It took over ten minutes and there were quite a few crystals. He had little else to do, however, so this would be enough to fill a good part of the morning. Training with the Knights could wait until the afternoon.

In time, his hand started to ache from holding both the small crystals and the grinding tool. He put them both down and took the crystals to wash in the ‘fresher sink. They glimmered with droplets of water on them, refracting the light from the illuminators. There was a large red one which would have been a good replacement for the cracked one in Kylo’s saber. He couldn’t bring himself to install it, though. Instead, he took it and four others—purple, blue, green, and white—and lined them up on Hux’s desk in front of his console. He had said he wanted to see them, and he would if they were here. Whenever he came back to their quarters, he’d find them.

The rest of the crystals Kylo took to his locked cabinet. He placed them next to the holocrons, pausing to examine the other contents. There were a few other valuable objects, but what caught his eye just then were the bound flimsi tomes he had collected over the years. He had only three, but they contained invaluable records of masters of the Force, both the Dark and Light Sides. He stooped to pick one up, carrying it to his desk and setting it there. The cover was worn hide from some long-dead animal, the pages thick enough to hold up over hundreds of years.

He flipped open to the first page and read the lines of ornate calligraphy painted there by ancient hands. There were some quirks of the old-fashioned language that were sometimes hard to make out and were far from current standard Aurebesh. He wondered if Hux would be able to read it. Surely, if he wasn’t taught to write, deciphering stylized writing was beyond him. Kylo thought maybe he might show him the volume and see what he would make of it. Perhaps he would just scoff and turn to his own work, but, on the other hand, it might just capture his interest.

Kylo took a pad of modern flimsi sheets from a drawer and, with a fine-tipped pen, wrote: “Hux, these are what I went to retrieve and this is a book of very old Jedi secrets. See and touch both. There’s nothing like these elsewhere in the galaxy and now they’re ours.”

The sheet he tore from the pad. Carrying it over with the tome, he placed them both on Hux’s desk next to the kyber crystals. If Hux disregarded all of it, Kylo wouldn’t bother him again. He hoped, though, that it might give him pause.

Leaving their quarters then, Kylo went down to train.

 

****

 

Hunger and weariness after a long session of sparring brought Kylo back to the residential decks. He had pushed too hard after having been planetside just the twenty-four standard hours before and hurt for it. Steps slow and heavy, he crossed the threshold into his and Hux’s quarters. Some of the exhaustion faded, though, as he set eyes on Hux, who sat upright at his desk, thumbing through the manuscript that Kylo had put there. He kept his eyes on it even as Kylo came to him and stood at his side.

“What do you think?” Kylo asked.

Hux flipped a page, tracing a finger down the flimsi sheet. “It’s quaint,” he replied.

Kylo sucked his teeth, disappointed. “That’s it?”

“Do you want me to fawn over it?” Hux asked, turning his gaze up to Kylo. “I can barely read it for this _scrawl_.”

“I thought you might not be able to,” said Kylo. “It’s archaic and the calligraphy can be hard to make out, even for me.”

Hux sniffed, turning to the next page, which was illuminated in vibrant colors. Remarkably, they hadn’t faded over the centuries. “It’s pretty, but useless if you can’t decipher it.”

Kylo leaned down by his shoulder to see the words. “It just takes time. Look: ‘Seek you the essence of the energies of All Things and draw you them into your Heart.’ You can read that, can’t you?”

“I can,” said Hux, “but what is the point of holding on to this when it could be transcribed and made legible?”

Kylo sighed. “You’re the least sentimental person I’ve ever known. Is nothing like this valuable to you?”

“To me? No. To a museum curator? Maybe.” He pushed the tome to the side and picked up the note Kylo had written for him. “This, at least, I can read. You have a better style than whoever wrote _that_.” He gave the manuscript a disdainful look, but when he glanced back at the note, he touched the script. “If one must write by hand, this is something to aspire to: clean lines and good spaces between the words. It doesn’t all run together into nonsense.”

“You could learn to do that,” said Kylo. “It’s not so hard.” He expected a dismissal out of hand, but Hux hesitated, studying the note.

“It would be a waste of time,” he said, though without the previous dismissiveness. “I would never use it for anything.”

Kylo plucked the note from his hand, setting it down on the desktop and, with his hand on the back of Hux’s chair, turned Hux to face him. “Not everything has to have a use. You can do something just because it interests you.” He raised his eyebrows. “Does it?”

Hux wet his lips, which were pink from him having bitten them—something he did when he was concentrating particularly hard on something. Kylo picked up his right hand—his dominant hand—and folded it between his own. Hux’s gaze fell on the note and then came back to Kylo.

“I don’t have much time,” he said, “but perhaps I could learn a little.”

Kylo couldn’t suppress his smile. “When?”

Hux took his hand back and reached for his datapad. “Give me twenty minutes to finish a few things.”

“Okay,” said Kylo. He backed up and pushed his hair away from his face. He teased, darkly: “I’m sure I can find something to do for twenty minutes.”

With a snort, Hux said, “Go do that, if you must, and leave me be.”

Kylo, laughing, sauntered into their bedroom to put on something more comfortable. He eyed the bed as he did it and, unable to resist the urge, lay down and reached into his underwear for his cock. He was just getting going, and just starting to let the groans slip past his lips, when Hux stormed into the bedroom.

Kylo was hauled by his ankles to the edge of bed, where Hux knelt. Some eight minutes later, he was feeling utterly triumphant. The feeling only intensified when Hux shoved him back and jerked himself until he spattered Kylo’s face with his spend. Flushed and grumbling, Hux stripped and put on his sleep clothes. He stomped out into the common room and ordered Kylo to sit beside him.

Kylo brought pens and two pads of flimsi sheets. He set one in front of Hux, who inspected it skeptically. Kylo held out a pen, wagging it to entice him. Uncertainly, Hux took it and held it pinched between his thumb and forefingers.

“You hold it like this,” Kylo said, guiding Hux to brace the contoured grip against the inside of his middle finger and hold it with pointer and thumb. “It’ll keep it steady.”

Hux adjusted his grip, though he still seemed uncomfortable with it. Reaching over to the pad in front of him, Kylo wrote out, in neat Aurebesh characters: _Armitage Hux_.

“Copy that,” he said to Hux.

“My own name?” Hux scoffed. “That’s where you want to begin?”

Kylo tapped the page, admonishing. “Everyone needs to know how to sign their name. Don’t be a prick and just do it.”

Hux gave a displeased “Hmph,” but checked his grip on the pen and then carefully set the tip down on the page. The first line of the Aurek character was shaky at best, but he managed a fair rendition of it under what Kylo had written. He moved carefully to Mern next, and then Isk. The result was a very childlike version of his signature, but when he lifted the pen from the page, he looked very pleased with himself.

“Well done,” said Kylo.

Hux held the pen carefully, even with some measure of reverence. “It’s not so difficult, I suppose. I already know the letters.”

“You just have to practice them.” Kylo took the pad again and wrote out: _Kylo Ren is my husband. We have been married for twenty-seven days._

Hux tilted his head to see Kylo properly. “You’ve been keeping track,” he said.

“And you haven’t,” Kylo said.

“It doesn’t make any particular matter, does it?” Hux asked. “This is how we’ll be for the rest of our lives. Whether it’s twenty-seven days or one hundred and twenty-seven is all the same.” He paused, but then added: “Isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” said Kylo. He had only counted the days that morning, and absently. It wasn’t so long a time, but felt like a great deal more. He said as much to Hux.

Hux tapped the top of the pen against the flimsi pad, just over the lines Kylo had written. “It does, I suppose. Have you...disliked it?”

There was a question Kylo hadn’t expected. He didn’t think it mattered to Hux whether or not they were content together, as long as they got their tasks done and didn’t argue _too_ much.

“It’s been an adjustment,” Kylo replied. “Neither of us wanted this.”

Hux sighed. “But there was a time that maybe you did? You were, I don’t know, perhaps twenty—twenty-one at most.” He looked at Kylo from the corner of his eye. “You tried to seduce me.”

Kylo rubbed the back of his neck. He remembered that, too, and it had been a disaster.

“You weren’t very good at it,” Hux continued. “Very direct. But you’ve always been that. It’s actually something I appreciate about you. You speak your mind.” He huffed. “Sometimes that can be utterly infuriating, but it’s better than you not addressing things with me.”

“Thanks,” said Kylo. “I guess.”

Hux shot him another chiding look. “But what I mean to say is, you made an effort to see if this might work between us, and I put an end to it directly. That might not have been the wisest choice. If I had gone along with you, things might be different.”

“Do they really need to be?” Kylo asked. “We’re doing all right, if you ask me. But you don’t think so?”

“I suppose we are,” Hux replied, with some hesitance. “I’m not...unhappy.”

Kylo found that his chest warmed ever-so-slightly. “I’m not, either.” He laid a hand on Hux’s forearm, sliding his fingers lightly over his sleeve until he touched the skin of his wrist. An admission: “I didn’t think I’d say that.”

Hux turned his hand over and drew Kylo’s into it. “Nor did I.”

They stayed, palms pressed together, for a few moments, before Hux drew back and picked up the pen. “I’ll write this, then, shall I?”

Kylo watched him carefully form the characters of both sentences, each one still wavering and unpolished. But he had done it, and that was what mattered.

He touched the first word—Kylo’s first name—with his fingertip, slightly smearing the ink. “Do you want me to call you Kylo?” he asked. “I haven’t in a very long time, but you never complained when I decided on ‘Ren.’”

“I wouldn’t mind,” said Kylo, “but somehow I don’t think you want to be called ‘Armitage.’”

Hux’s face screwed up in displeasure. “No.”

Kylo chuckled. “I won’t, then.” Taking the pad again, he wrote out another few lines, this time just innocuous phrases Hux might use daily on the bridge in his command. “Do these next,” Kylo said.

Hux brooked no protest as he started in on them.

 

****

 

On a holographic map at the center of the table, Kylo could see the position he and his Knights would take in the planetside offensive Hux was planning. As promised, they would be on the ground, and, much to Kylo’s satisfaction, at the head of the landing party. Hux, who stood beside him, was describing to Captain Phasma his strategies. She would be leading the troopers who would follow Kylo and the Knights, and while she never directly challenged an order or suggested something else, she had a keen way of inserting her opinion into Hux’s narrative and altering the outlines accordingly. Kylo was impressed with her subtle manipulation—something he didn’t think he’d he able to master with his spouse.

“She knows what she’s doing,” Kylo said once Phasma had left the conference room.

“I should certainly hope so,” said Hux, though his focus was still mostly on the map. “My father spent almost more time with her than with me. She is his finest protégé.”

“I figured you would have been the one to train her,” Kylo said in surprise.

Hux turned his face up from the display. “There’s no record of her age, but I was a teenager when Father found her on her homeworld. She is, presumably, my senior in age, if not command.”

Kylo crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at Hux where he was leaning on the tabletop. “And you love that, don’t you? Ordering people who have been in the military longer than you around.” He gave Hux a knowing, one-sided smile. “You get off on it.”

“Not in the literal sense,” Hux said, “but the power is rather fulfilling.”

“That’s an understatement and you know it. Maybe you don’t touch your cock while you think of giving orders, but you _do_ get off on it.” Kylo shifted minutely closer, until his hand lay beside Hux’s on the table. “Do you like giving _me_ orders?”

Hux surveyed him cooly, but a twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed his interest.

“Oh, Colonel,” Kylo said, voice low, “command me.”

“Piss off,” Hux snapped, shoving his shoulder in a half-hearted attempt to get him to move away.

Kylo grabbed him by the wrist and held him fast. “Humor me for a minute. What would you order me to do in this battle, Colonel Hux?” He spun the map with his free hand and pinch-zoomed on the marker that denoted his and the Knight’s position on the battlefield.

“Isn’t the point of your little unit to be in charge of yourselves?” Hux asked. It was curtly said, but without bite.

“Just tell me,” Kylo replied, caressing the inside of Hux’s wrist with his thumb. “Maybe I’ll follow your instructions.”

Hux licked his lower lip, hesitating, but then glanced toward the map. “Send you in at least a quarter hour before the rest of the landing force. Let you wreak unseen havoc on the insurgent base to rattle them before any single ship lands outside their precinct. You’ve said you can be stealthy. I want to you to prove that in the most devastating way: frighten them as you hurt them; show them our cunning before our might.”

Kylo’s battle blood stirred. He could see it happening: dropping down beyond sensor range of the base and then infiltrating it, doing away with guards with just the Force, or severing their heads from their bodies with his saber and throwing both into the courtyard below the battlements for the personnel to see. It would be quiet, but it would inspire panic. They wouldn’t see the seven shadows that prowled the precinct, leaving tidy death in their wake.

“What would you do with us when your troopers landed?” Kylo continued.

“Reveal yourselves,” said Hux. “Open the doors of the compound for them and invite them inside. The enemy won’t know what to make of you. At least until you light your saber. Then right at the forefront, until all of them are dead.”

Kylo brought Hux’s hand to his chest, resting it over his heart. “I’ll do that for you,” he said with the utmost assurance. “Will you record it?”

Hux nodded fervently. “I want to see it all.”

“I’ll make sure you do.”

A short tug drew Hux up and into Kylo’s embrace. He put his arms around Kylo’s neck, interlacing the fingers just under his hair. Kylo leaned into him, his own palms at the sleek back of Hux’s uniform jacket. He was so narrow, but there was a great deal of strength in his litheness—even if not physical strength.

“I’m a weapon of the First Order,” Kylo said. “If I like your orders, I’ll take them.”

Hux sniffed. “That’s not how an army works. You take the orders whether or not you like them. But, as you have said before, you are not one of my troopers.” He blinked once. “But if you will let me wield you, I’ll not steer you wrong.”

Kylo moved inches closer, until he nearly had to cross his eyes to keep them focused on Hux. “I’ll tip the spear you thrust, if I agree with you on the path.” He kissed Hux’s mouth then—just a quick, insistent press of lips before he drew back.

Hux tugged the ends of his hair to keep him close. “How often will that be, hm? I never know what your moods will bring me every day.”

Kylo wrinkled his nose in annoyance. “Oh, and you’re as consistent as a sun? Two nights ago, we were writing in peace and last night you were telling me off for keeping the holos too loud. I turned the volume down, but you still complained. Until you just gave up and told me to get on my knees for you.”

“Yes, well,” Hux said, unable to deny it, “you didn’t object.”

“No,” said Kylo. “I like doing that for you.”

“Do you?”

Kylo petted his back, down to the small. “Mm. I thought that was obvious by now. There’s more I want to do, too.”

Hux smiled, thin and clever. He reached up to Kylo’s ears, which were points of sensitivity, rubbing lightly. “I know that. The time will come.”

“Tease,” Kylo said. He hummed as Hux tugged the lobes of his ears gently and then moved up to the tingling shells. Kylo’s cock twitched. As if Hux could feel it, his smile widened, baring white teeth.

“It wouldn’t be as fun if I just gave right in to you, would it?” Hux asked. “Won’t the waiting make it better?”

“Not really,” Kylo replied. “We’ve been waiting for seventeen years.”

“Not as long as that. We were children for a great deal of those years. But I take your point.” He held Kylo by the chin, squeezing. “Soon, then. I’ll acquire what we need. Unless you’ve preempted me.”

“No,” said Kylo.

“Good. Perhaps after you’ve done well on your mission planetside, then.” Hux bumped his nose against Kylo’s, almost too fond for him. “Impress me and I’ll give you what you want.”

Kylo held him tight around the waist. “I’ll show you exactly what I can do, I promise you that.”

The opening of the door had them both turning toward it, though they didn’t immediately step away from each other. Captain Peavey stood at the threshold, his bushy brows raised; he clearly hadn’t been expecting to walk in on an embrace, despite Kylo and Hux’s union being perfectly common knowledge in the Order. Kylo knew Hux detested him and, thinking Hux might like the opportunity to irk him just now, Kylo kept Hux from leaving his arms. From the corner of his eye, he saw Hux shoot him a look, but he stayed in place.

“Excuse me,” said Peavey, averting his eyes.

“Captain,” Hux said with his usual authority, “is there something you needed?”

Peavey tugged at the hem of his jacket, obviously uncomfortable. “Your presence was requested on the bridge, sir. There’s been a change in the Delta Initiative that you should be apprised of.”

Kylo didn’t know what that was, but he said, in a voice intimate enough to be uncalled for in someone else’s presence but loudly enough to be heard by Peavey, “Sounds important. Do you have to go right away?”

Confusion crossed Hux’s face, but at a sneakily shown smile from Kylo, he seemed to catch on to the game. He laid a warm-fingered hand on Kylo’s left cheek. “I’m afraid I must.”

Kylo played at abject disappointment, letting out a heavy sigh as he leaned into Hux’s palm. “When will I see you again?”

“Tonight,” Hux said. He seemed to deliberate for the space of a second, but then added, “My dear.”

The laugh he had to contain actually made Kylo’s chest burn with the effort. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

Hux leaned in, saying, “I know,” right before he gave Kylo a too-lingering kiss.

Peavey could be heard clearing his throat from the doorway. They let him suffer for a moment more before they drew apart and Kylo released his hold on Hux. They exchanged a mischievous, entertained look as he stepped back.

“Until later,” Kylo said. Gathering his helmet from its place on the table, he swept past Peavey, giving him a very dark look, as if offended at the interruption. Peavey shrunk back to let him go.

Only when Kylo got into the lift to make his way down to the training room did he finally release the laugh. No doubt Peavey would be wagging his tongue later on, spreading rumors about how affectionate the co-commanders were. Once Kylo might have disapproved, but now he didn’t mind. In fact, it was something he liked for the Order to think: that he and Hux actually cared for each other. He wondered as the lift arrived, if that was actually on the verge of becoming true.

 

* * *

 

 

**Hux**

The Delta Initiative changes proved to be easy enough to contend with, and little more than an hour later, Hux could return to his quarters. A very discomfited Captain Peavey saw him off, Hux leaving the bridge in his hands. _Oh, long-suffering Peavey_ , Hux thought as he caught the lift to the residential decks. He not only had to take Hux’s orders, but now had been forced to witness what should have been a private moment between the colonel and his husband. Hux hadn’t thought at first to play along, but the opportunity was too good to pass up, and, if he was being truthful, he would prefer that the Order saw him and Ren as partners who worked together rather than as opponents.

Upon entry to their quarters, he removed his greatcoat and cap, putting them both in their places in his wardrobe. He paused as he looked over the neat row of uniform jackets and neatly folded trousers, a spare pair of boots, and a box of gloves. Everything was in perfect order and he knew exactly what to reach for without thinking when he wanted to dress. The only thing he rarely touched was the small lockbox he had tucked at the back of the wardrobe. Stooping, he grabbed for it and slid it out onto the floor; it weighed more than he remembered. Carefully, he sank onto the durasteel, sitting cross-legged like a child.

The box contained what few boyhood treasures he had had: some custom blaster magazine modifications he had made around eight years old, a strand of braided wires he had been given by a girl he had helped in a combat simulation at thirteen, a few other objects that had once held far more significance than he now remembered. What he was looking for, though, was wrapped in a bit of microfiber cloth torn from a blaster cleaning kit and shoved into the deepest reaches of the box. He drew it out slowly, putting the wrapped thing in the palm of his hand to weigh it.

The red stone gleamed in the light of the illuminators when it was bared, the gold band into which it was set just as bright and unmarred as it had been the day Ren had given it to him. The ring had been far too big then, but looking at it now, Hux could see it would fit. He extended the fingers of his left hand, worrying the band between right thumb and forefinger. With undue trepidation, he guided the ring onto his third finger. It caught at the second knuckle, but he pushed it over until it sat heavily in its proper place.

Hux lifted his hand to appraise it, and to feel the unaccustomed weight. It wasn’t gaudy, but it felt strange to have something around his finger. He flexed the fingers, curling his hand into a fist. He wasn’t sure whether it would be something he continued to wear, but for now he would leave it and see what he thought.

With the lockbox tucked away again, he went to his desk to catch up on messages. What caught his eye, however, was the pad of flimsi sheets Ren had left there for him to practice on. Hux hadn’t actually done any of that prescribed practice, and the lines of text on the page were still those Ren had written for Hux to copy. Sitting, Hux picked up the pen and tapped the top of it against the pad. At the bottom of the page, he wrote, in unschooled Aurebesh lettering, his full name, and then Ren’s.

“Kylo,” he said aloud. He had agreed to call him that, but had yet to use it. He would amend that starting this evening.

The work absorbed him through the rest of the late afternoon, until the door slid open and Ren—looking fit from training with a slight gleam of sweat and his damp hair drawn up into a tail—came inside. Hux turned in his chair to face him, offering a short greeting.

“I’m not coming over there,” said Ren as he strode past and toward their bedroom. “I need a shower before you smell me.”

Hux huffed and let him go, but rose and, unzipping his jacket, made his way toward the ‘fresher to join him. Ren was washing shampoo from his hair when Hux slipped into the shower cubicle.

“Feel dirty, too?” Ren asked, eyes still closed to keep the soap from them.

“I did, yes,” Hux replied. It was all pretence and Ren knew that, especially when Hux went straight for his neck, nibbling along the side and up to his ears.

Ren made an approving sound and grabbed Hux by the buttock. “Did Peavey enjoy our little show earlier?”

“Most certainly,” Hux said softly as he bit down on the lobe of Ren’s left ear. “I’m sure the officers in the lounge are going to hear all about it tonight when his shift ends.”

“Does that bother you?” said Ren.

Hux stopped, rearing back so he could look him in the face. “No. You?”

Ren’s expression was soft and lust-tinged; his ears were a very weak point. “No.”

A simple answer, but it was enough. Hux steered Ren by the shoulders so that he could get under the spray of the water and wet his hair. He was brushing some back from his brow when Ren latched onto his wrist and pulled his hand away from his face. When Hux opened his eyes, he saw Ren looking intently down at the ring.

“It’s not as big as I remembered,” Hux said, holding out the hand for Ren to see. “Strange how everything looks large to a child.”

“It fits you,” said Ren. “Even with your skinny fingers.”

Hux narrowed his eyes at him, but Ren wasn’t watching his face.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s well enough,” said Hux. “I suppose I could get used to it.” With his free hand, he tugged at the pendant around Ren’s neck. “It’s only fair if you wear this, isn’t it?”

Ren turned his eyes up to him, thoughtful. “It’s not tit for tat, Hux. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to.”

Hux said, “But I do. As a reminder.”

“Isn’t living together enough?” Ren asked, wry. He ran his hands up Hux’s arms to his shoulders. “Isn’t _this_ enough?”

“For us it is,” Hux replied, “but for the others there’s an element of display we can afford. Like with Peavey, but perhaps a little more understated.”

Ren touched the stone in the ring and for a moment it lit up with a bright red glow.

“The Force?” Hux asked.

“The crystals can channel it, if handled right,” Ren replied. “They can store energy for years, just waiting to be discharged.”

“And what could a discharge do, exactly?”

Ren kept his focus on the stone. “Knock an enemy back or stun him, but you need the Force to release the energy.” He eyed Hux. “Thinking of weaponizing your jewelry?”

Hux chuckled. “It crossed my mind. A hidden personal defense mechanism would be valuable to me.”

“You’re not in any danger, though,” said Ren. “Not here on the ship with thousands of kilometers of atmosphere between you and the insurgents.” The corners of his mouth turned down. “Unless you think one of our own would attack you.”

“I keep a close watch on my officers,” Hux admitted. “Some have ambitions, and I could be in the way of those.” He had fought his own way up the ranks with some manner of sabotage, so it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that others would try the same with him.

“Like Peavey?” Ren said.

Hux shrugged. “Him and maybe some others, but they’re not at the point where they could manage anything right now, or dare. Fresh in this command, I have Snoke’s favor and deposing me would upset him. And”—he drummed his fingertips against Ren’s left pectoral, over his heart—“I have a formidable ally.”

Ren gave him a strikingly warm look, taking the hand and pressing it to his skin. “I’d kill them, if you wanted it.”

Hux’s mouth dropped open. That was far more than he would have expected of Ren, even if they became more intimately connected than they now were. Well, a certain affectionate intimacy; he didn’t want to put the word to it, but he considered that kind of display of loyalty to be the utmost expression of devotion. He was coming to appreciate Ren and to better tolerate him as his spouse, but he was not prepared to say they were devoted to one another.

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Hux said. “But I appreciate the thought.”

Ren squeezed his fingers, and that was enough.

Clean and warm, they got out of the shower and dried themselves. In lounge clothes, they went to the dining room, where wine and water and their meals had been laid out by the droids. It was some kind of root vegetable glazed in a sweet and sour sauce and meat garnished with thyme. Hux found he was quite hungry.

“I had an encrypted comm frequency set up for us,” said Ren after they had had a few quite minutes to eat.

“Have you?” Hux said.

“Yes. You suggested it, so we can keep in touch with each other while I’m away. I’m not giving you formal reports, but I’ll comm you when I’m finished with the mission planetside.”

Hux sliced a sliver of meat and dipped it into the sauce. “I would like to know that you’re in one piece.” He raised a brow. “Although you said you’re not often hurt.”

“I’m not, but if you want to check up on me, you can.”

“I don’t want to…” Hux trailed off. In truth, he _was_ checking up; there was no point in playing it off as if he wasn’t. However, Ren wouldn’t be gone more than a day and a night on this particular mission. Hux was pleased with that. He didn’t want their bed to be long empty.

“Don’t want to what?” Ren pressed, knowing and impishly smiling.

Hux waved his fork annoyedly. “Oh, you know what I mean. I don’t mean to play your nursemaid, but I’d like to be apprised of your situation.”

Ren took a large bite of his meat, grinning around it. “I’ll comm and let you know I’m safe, _darling_.”

“Oh, please,” Hux grumbled.

“You don’t have a leg to stand on when it comes to that,” said Ren. “You called me ‘my dear’ in front of Peavey.”

Hux felt his face heat, but he said, “It was all for show. I despise pet names.”

“We’re agreed on that, then,” said Ren. He went back to his food, and Hux to his.

The wine was white and crisp and good, and Hux was pleasantly full of the surprisingly light meat and vegetables. He finished a good deal of it, though Ren cleaned his plate. Once done, they summoned the droids to clean up and went together into the common room. Hux had messages to attend to, but he picked up his pad of flimsi sheets and the pen.

“Kylo,” he said.

Ren turned, curious.

“Will you give me something else to write tonight?” Hux fingered the edge of the top page. “I haven’t been doing it on my own and you are...helpful.” He could have phrased it more candidly: just saying he wanted to spend more time together.

“Of course,” said Ren. “Let me just…” He went to his secure cabinet of curiosities and withdrew a flimsi volume.

“Not some of your Force wisdom,” Hux said. It would bore him, surely.

Ren brought the tome over and set it down on Hux’s desk. “No. This is a text on military tactics from an age before the culture left low-planet orbit. A manual for bladed weapons.”

“Oh,” Hux murmured. “That sounds intriguing. Do you use it for your saber training? It _is_ a bladed weapon, even if plasma.”

“I’ve used it some,” Ren replied as he pulled his chair beside Hux’s and sank down onto it. He gestured for Hux to join him.

Hux went, taking up his own chair and laying out his flimsi. He uncapped the pen, prepared to work. Ren cracked the volume open; it smelled of ancient ink and dust. The script inside was handwritten and somewhat difficult to make out, but Hux resolved to do the best he could. The subject was interesting, after all. Pen in hand, he began to copy the words. Ren read aloud as he shaped the letters, offering the occasional correction.

“Don’t clench your hand so much,” he said, taking the pen from Hux’s grip and massaging the tendons and delicate muscles. “You’ll cramp up.”

Hux did as he was told when he took up writing again. Ren leaned into him, resting his chin on Hux’s shoulder. Hux might once have been perturbed at the proximity, but there was now some manner of comfort in it. He wrote in a hushed peace, with his husband at his side.

 

****

 

The live feed from the planet’s surface gave Hux a stunning view of Ren and his Knights’ capabilities. Ren attached the camera to his helmet’s video feed and it was as if Hux were watching through his eyes. Ren was nightmarishly good at his work. He kept his lightsaber powered down, but he used the Force—presumably; there was no energy or other display of the ability—to incapacitate insurgents silently. He threw their bodies to the ground, and through the audio feed, Hux could hear the frightened cries of the men passing below. By the time the trooper transports landed two hundred meters from the compound, all the sentries were dead.

As Hux had ordered, Ren opened the doors for the invading force, only then igniting his saber and charging into the fray. Hux watched him deflect blaster bolts with the saber blade, the energy exploding into sparks as it came in contact with the plasma. It was an awe-inspiring display that had Hux’s pulse elevated, even removed in his operations room aboard the _Finalizer_.

“The landing troops have secured the insurgent base, Colonel,” Captain Peavey said as he read from his console screen. “Twenty-one prisoners have been taken. Master Ren has taken charge of their interrogation.”

That was unexpected. It was certainly not a task Hux had given him. But Ren had always said that he was good at pulling secrets from people’s minds; he had threatened Hux with it numerous times over their years on the _Supremacy_. Intrigued, Hux excused himself from the main operations room and went to the adjoining conference space. Alone, he used the private frequency and commed down to Ren.

“What?” was the curt reply on the other end, as soon as they were connected.

A flare of irritation lit Hux’s belly, but he kept his tone even as he said, “I was told you’re to oversee the interrogations. I want to have a feed of it.”

Ren didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “There’s not much to see. It’s all using the Force.”

“Do it anyway,” said Hux.

He got a half-grunt, but then: “Fine. We managed to keep the leader alive, so I’m taking her first. Are you near your feed?”

“Give me a moment,” Hux told him. He went back through into the operations room and barked, “Get out. All of you. I’ll report back in twenty minutes.”

The subordinates scrambled to leave the room, shutting the door behind them.

Ren’s voice came over the comm: “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“I’m aware,” Hux replied. “And I’m ready. You may begin.”

In the holo feed, Hux saw Ren pass into a nearby room, where a broad-shouldered woman with dirty blond dreadlocks was handcuffed to a bare durasteel chair. As soon as she saw Ren, she broke into curses in a language Hux didn’t understand, spitting at Ren’s feet.

“Silence,” Ren said with harsh authority.

The woman’s mouth snapped shut, but her panicked eyes betrayed that it was not her choice. Ren approached her in measured steps, stopping just short of her restrained feet. They were bare and thick with callus.

“You made a very serious mistake crossing the First Order,” Ren began, his voice low in a kind of threatening growl. “I think you must have realized that by now.”

The woman bared her teeth at him.

Ren laughed lightly, icily. “You’ve been defeated. More than half of your men are dead. Now you’ll tell me where the cache of weapons you stole is.”

She struggled against her bonds, but when Ren raised his left hand, she went still. The muscles in her jaw worked as she clenched her teeth, fighting him. Hux didn’t expect that would last long.

“Where did you hide them?” said Ren.

The woman’s face contorted and even through the blue-tinted feed, Hux could see the sheen on sweat on her brow. She ground out some more of her language, still trying to resist.

Ren moved closer and cupped her strong, square chin in his gloved hand. Under the pressure, she broke. With a howl, she threw back her head, eyes pinched shut. It lasted mere seconds before her cry was cut off. As soon as Ren released her, her head dropped to her chest; she was unconscious.

“The weapons are in a cave due north of here,” Ren said to Hux. “There are guards posted there and they won’t have heard about the attack on the base. I’ll provide your men with the coordinates.”

“You don’t want to go yourself?” Hux asked.

“No. I want to come back to the ship.”

Hux didn’t press for his reasons. “Of course you may do as you wish. You were impressive, Kylo. I could not have wished for better.”

Ren said, “I’ll see you in our quarters in a couple of hours. Wait for me there.”

“I will,” Hux told him and then severed the connection.

He allowed the other officers to return to the room and they made the final arrangements for how the weapons would be recovered. The insurgent base would be put to the torch as an example for anyone else on the planet who thought they could get away with playing the Order false. That done, Hux retired to his and Ren’s quarters, peeled off his gloves, and poured himself a full glass of brandy to celebrate his success. He was in good spirits and more than a little drunk when Ren came in.

He paused just inside the door at seeing Hux sprawled out on the sofa with his jacket off and his second glass of golden brandy in his hand.

Hux grinned at him and said, “Take off that helmet, will you? It doesn’t belong in here.”

Ren lifted his fingers to the catches and released them, lifting the helmet from his head. He carried it to the table beside the sofa and set it down with a _clang_. Hux didn’t bother to chastise him; the transparisteel could handle the abuse.

Sitting up and opening his legs, Hux beckoned. Ren came and stepped into the space Hux had made for him. His robes were unmarred from the battle, but he smelled of ozone and burned hair. It wasn’t appealing, but Hux leaned in and, taking the edges of the tunic, brought it to his nose.

Ren, hand still in its glove, stroked Hux’s hair. “Did you like what you saw?” he asked.

“Yes,” Hux replied, letting the tunic fall back down. “You’re something to behold.”

Ren made a deep humming sound, still cupping the back of Hux’s head. Hux turned his face up to him, studying his tired expression.

“Would you like to rest?” Hux said.

“Not yet,” said Ren. From Hux’s right hand, he plucked the brandy and took a sip. He pursed his lips distastefully, making Hux chuckle.

“Have you ever been intoxicated?” Hux asked as he took the glass back. He drank some more from the place where Ren’s lips had been.

Ren shook his head. “You are right now,” he said. “Your color’s up and you look...loose.”

Hux slid his hand along the side of Ren’s thigh up to his buttock. “Does it bother you?”

“Not necessarily. It’s just different.” Pulling his hand back, he tugged off his gloves and unbuttoned the back of the high collar of his tunic. He took a deep, seemingly relieved breath at the release of the constriction. “You’re celebrating your big victory.”

“Ours,” said Hux. “It wouldn’t have worked had you not been there.” Once he would only have admitted that begrudgingly, but it didn’t bother him now. Ren should know he had done well.

Ren laid his hands on Hux’s shoulders, covered only by the thin black undershirt he wore. He rubbed lightly at the muscles above his collarbones. Ren had beautiful hands—large and long-fingered—and in the giddiness of drink Hux imagined them at his ass, plying him open with careful insistence. It had been a long time since Hux had been with someone in that way and quite suddenly he craved it with Ren.

He peered up at Ren, who was watching him with sleepy, half-closed eyes. Hux said, “Fuck me tonight.”

All the lethargy was swept from Ren’s face. His lips parted ever-so-slightly, betraying his surprise.

“I want it,” Hux continued, drawing one of Ren’s hands from his shoulder and pressing the his fingers to his lips. He talked against them. “You’ll stretch me and get me slick and then I’ll take all of you, as deep as you can go.”

Ren tensed, and then sighed. He curled the tip of his middle finger against Hux’s mouth; Hux opened and tongued the pad.

“Will you do it?” Hux asked. He was already hardening in his trousers just thinking about it. The act itself would be exquisite.

“Yes,” Ren replied, setting his left palm against Hux’s neck. “Absolutely.”

Hux smiled under his fingers. “Then come to bed.”

Ren grabbed him urgently by the upper arms and pulled him up against his chest. The kiss was powerful and charged with passion, unlike the first ones they had shared some nights ago. Ren was a keen and fast learner; he knew when Hux wanted his tongue and when to bite at his lips. His intuition was remarkable. Now, he pushed into Hux’s mouth, forcing it open and turning the kiss messy.

Hux grabbed at his back and pushed a thigh between his legs to feel his cock. He wasn’t yet fully hard, but Hux could change that as soon as he got him naked and on their bed. Ren took him by the waist and moved him far enough away to get him to walk toward the bedroom. They stumbled and stepped on each other’s toes as they made their way there, not laughing; this wasn’t the time for playfulness. And neither of them favored that, anyway.

“Illuminators seventy percent,” Ren said, bringing up the light the room. He shoved Hux onto the bed and dropped right to his knees. Bracing one boot between his thighs, he yanked it off of Hux’s foot and threw it aside. The other followed.

Hux moved back on the mattress, his uniform trousers sliding along the satiny bedspread, while Ren divested himself of his own boots and all but tore his tunic up and over his head. He had on only a vest beneath, which also was quick to disappear. Prowling up to Hux, he pinned him down with his considerable weight and pressed his groin into Hux’s. There he was: ready.

“Stars, you’re going to feel good,” Hux murmured, fingers in Ren’s hair and hips moving up to make known his own erection. “Big, filling. It’s been so long.”

“Don’t talk about that,” Ren snarled, eyes flashing with warning. “I don’t want to know who’s had you before. You’re mine, now. Only mine.”

Hux, stunned by the possessiveness, let out a little puff of air—not a gasp, but close. “You don’t own me,” he said.

Ren gave him an unforgiving kiss. “You’re wrong about that. You said your vows; you wear my ring; you give me your body. You’re _mine_.”

Hux was startled to realize that it was true. He would never be with anyone else physically—the vows Ren reminded him of forbid it—and he _had_ chosen to put the ring on his finger: a reminder of what he had sworn. But if he belonged to Ren, then so too did Ren belong to him.

“I won’t give you anything I don’t do willing,” Hux said.

“And I won’t take it,” said Ren. “But what you do offer belongs to me and me alone. No one can touch you but me.”

Hux pulled on his hair until he pulled back enough for Hux to see his face. “Do you relish knowing that so much?”

“Yes,” was Ren’s prompt, decided reply. “Would you want me to be with someone else?”

Jealousy burned in Hux’s chest thinking of sharing him. “Never again,” he growled. “Your pleasure comes only from me.”

Despite Hux’s hand in his hair, Ren tucked his face into the crook of Hux’s neck and bit down on the skin there. Hux cursed, but didn’t fight him or the stab of pain. He would have a mark there in the morning.

“Take off your clothes,” Ren said, “or I’ll tear them off.”

Hux almost wanted to see him try, but instead he shoved at his chest to get him to move off of him. Ren rolled just far enough away to allow Hux to strip off his undershirt and shimmy out of his trousers and socks. They were deposited on the floor next to the bed. Ren’s trousers landed in a careless pile on top of them, and then he was bare. Hux reached immediately between his legs, holding his heavy testicles in his palm. Ren’s groan vibrated through him.

“In the drawer of my nightstand,” Hux told him. “What we need.”

Ren was clearly reluctant to pull away, but he went to the drawer and fumbled around inside of it until he came out with the small black bottle of lubricant Hux had requisitioned. It looked very slim and insubstantial in Ren’s large hand. Eager, Hux shifted up to take a pillow and shove it under his hips. He parted his legs.

Ren had had his face in Hux’s most intimate places, but had yet to penetrate him in any way. He looked hungrily down at what Hux had exposed, wetting his ample lower lip and opening the top of the bottle to pour some of the clear liquid into the fingers of his right hand. Hux shivered with anticipation as fat drops rolled over his knuckles and into the spaces between the fingers. He shifted to offer more of himself, a silent plea for Ren to go on already.

Reading that, Ren touched his entrance, circling the muscle and putting a teasing pressure there. The lubricant was cool, but Ren’s skin was hot. Hux gripped the bedspread beneath him.

The first finger was pushed into him steadily, without rushing but not tentatively. Hux tensed at first, but then willed his body to relax and take it. Ren felt him ease into it and only then did he begin to explore.

“A little lower,” Hux said, recognizing his intention. Ren did as he was told and found just the right place. “ _There_.”

He worked over it for a few minutes, kissing Hux’s thighs as he trembled. It would take far more to get the full effect, but Hux didn’t have the patience for that right now. He urged Ren on: “More. Open me up.”

Ren didn’t hesitate. He drew out his first finger and then pushed two in. “I’ve thought about this for weeks,” he said as he drew them in and out. “And before that, when we were younger. I wondered if I would find an iron rod up your ass if I tried, you were so stuck up.”

“Kriff you, Kylo,” Hux snapped despite the pleasure-drunkenness.

Ren laughed, twisting his fingers and making Hux groan. “Nothing here, though. More than enough room for me.”

“Then get on with it,” said Hux. “I’m not timid. Give me three.”

He got what he wanted, with another healthy dose of lubricant to ease the way. Ren left off nipping at his thighs to take his cock in his mouth, sucking with the usual surety and skill. Between his tongue and his fingers, Hux was on his way to losing control already.

“Do you want me to come?” he managed to ask as the pleasure began to build to the breaking point.

Ren only hummed around his cock, and Hux took that for assent. He gave in to the sensations and it was only a scant two or three minutes more before he was spilling down Ren’s throat with a strangled moan. Ren took it all and unabashedly licked his lips, as if it was sweet. Hux could taste himself when Ren next kissed him.

“How do you want it?” Ren asked. “On your knees? Like this?”

“Like this,” Hux replied. More shyly: “I want to see you.”

Ren’s eyelids dropped closed; he approved. “Put your legs around me.” Hux did and Ren lined his slick cock up with his entrance. Slowly, he pushed inside.

Hux dropped his head back against the pillow, mouth open to draw in ragged breaths as he stretched to accommodate Ren’s length and girth. He wasn’t a small man in body or cock. When, at last, Ren was in to the hilt, they paused to feel the new connection between them. It was potent, and Hux could feel not only the fullness, but the beating of Ren’s heart in time with his. He had always thought that that effect was the myth; it seemed not.

“You all right?” Ren asked, hushed.

“Yes,” said Hux. “You can move. I’m ready.”

The first strokes were smooth and careful, but as Hux pressed his heels into Ren’s buttocks, he sped up. Soon, they were clinging to each other, sweat rising between them as the heat built. Hux, though his mind was very much on the present and Ren’s hard thrusts into him, couldn’t help but recollect those awful and awkward years they spent together on the _Supremacy_ , when they were so at odds that Hux wasn’t sure how he was going to suffer through a life with Ren. But here they were now, as close as was bodily possible, with Hux having been the one who had led them to this place. Ren was broad and firm against him, wrapping him up and taking him with abandon.

 _You said your vows; you wear my ring; you give me your body. You’re_ mine _._

He was going to be claimed wholly when Ren spent himself inside him, and, for once, he didn’t fear it. He gave himself over and embraced this union and the greater one they shared.

“ _Hux_ ,” Ren was saying with each thrust, his desperation beginning to show. “I’m so close. Can I—”

“You don’t have to ask,” said Hux, caressing his back. “Go on.”

With his blessing, Ren renewed his efforts until his movements grew erratic and he was giving the broken little moans Hux had learned preceded his climax. He cried out as he came, body jerking with each shock of the orgasm. Hux couldn’t feel his spend inside him, but knowing it was there was enough. It was the first time he had permitted such a thing; no one else would ever mark him like Ren had just done.

When the tension in Ren released, Hux expected him to collapse onto him, as he sometimes had after sex before, but instead he rose sharply away and took Hux by the hips. “Turn over,” he said. “On your knees.”

Hux was lost, but he did it, taking up the space where the pillow had been after Ren tore it away. Ren positioned himself behind him and spread Hux’s cheeks with both hands.

“Mine,” he said, tracing Hux’s entrance with his fingertips.

Hux was wet with lubricant and maybe more. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“You always want me to clean up my messes,” Ren replied. “I’m going to.” Without another word, he bent down to Hux’s ass and began to lap at the leavings of what they had done.

“Oh, _stars_ ,” Hux groaned, dropping his head to his forearms. Arousal spiked through him again as Ren licked him clean of his own spend. He couldn’t stop himself from taking hold of his cock and stroking it while Ren worked.

“I feel what you’re doing,” Ren said in a brief pause. He rubbed Hux under the testicles and up to the base of his cock; he was hard again. “Can you come a second time?”

Hux wasn’t sure, but he replied, “I can certainly try, if you keep doing that.”

“Yes, sir,” said Ren.

Hux started to jerk himself harder and with more intention, and, to his shock, went over the edge long before he expected it. He spilled all over his fingers and the bedspread below, crying out as the orgasm rushed through him. It wasn’t quite as powerful as the first, but in the aftermath, he was utterly spent. Uncaring of the mess, he fell onto the bed and heaved a sigh.

Ren lay over him, covering him from behind. He kissed just under Hux’s ear. “Was it what you wanted?”

“And more,” Hux said, muffled in the pillows. “If this is how it’s going to be for the rest of our lives, I believe I can content myself with that.”

“I plan to make it good for you,” Ren said as he nuzzled the nape of Hux’s neck.

“Just for me?” Hux asked with a hint of wryness.

Ren breathed a laugh against his sensitive skin. “I’m not that self-sacrificing. But I think we can do things we both like.”

“I’ve no doubt.”

They fell silent for a time, but then Ren rolled away and off the bed, going naked out into the common room. He returned with three fingers of brandy, some of which he drank. The rest he handed to Hux.

“This isn’t so bad,” Ren said as he sat at the edge of the mattress. “I thought it was going to be, but it’s not.”

Hux didn’t wonder overmuch about what he meant. He laid a hand at the small of Ren’s back and rubbed gently. “No.”

“We’re going to make something of it.”

“We already have,” said Hux, with conviction. Softer: “I may not always be an affectionate husband, and I’m sorry for that. It’s not in my nature. But I’ll be loyal to you and stand for the same things you do.” He hesitated only for a moment before he added, “I’ll care for you.”

Ren turned to look at him, touching the soft-haired crown of his head. “I think you already do.”

Hux gave in. “Yes, Kylo, I already do.”


	6. Epilogue

## Epilogue

**Kylo: Age Twenty-Four**

While it was most often Kylo who marked the passing days—the measure of time in their union—Hux caught him by surprise with dinner on their anniversary. Kylo had been gone on an exploratory mission seeking Old Republic technology for almost two weeks, but Hux had insisted so stridently that he return by this appointed cycle that he had to obey. Kylo had cleaned himself up beforehand in his shuttle’s small ‘fresher, but he was underdressed when he entered the quarters they shared aboard the _Finalizer_.

Hux stood by the starboard viewport in the finest clothes Kylo had ever seen him wear—even more elaborate than the dress uniform he had worn—and hated—in their wedding ceremony. Gone were the flared jodhpurs; in their place was a pair of fitted trousers that drew the eye to Hux’s long, slim legs. His suede leather boots came up over his knees. He had on a double-breasted red dinner jacket piped with gold. His hands were bare, and the ring he wore on the left caught the light from the illuminators and shone. Kylo was so struck by his beauty that he was stuck to the spot, only able to stare. It was Hux who had to come to him.

“You’re back,” Hux said, as he always did. The words were simple but charged with all the things he didn’t need to say: _I’m glad. I’ve missed you. You’re safe and whole._ There were a great deal of things that went unspoken between them; they were tacitly understood.

“You look incredible,” said Kylo, still awed.

Hux’s smile was one-sided but smug; he didn’t play at modesty. “And you the same as ever. I thought about choosing something for you to put on tonight, but decided against it. You likely would have hated it.”

“What’s tonight?” Kylo asked. “You needed me back urgently.”

“I did,” Hux replied. “I wasn’t going to spend this night alone. We’ve been married for a galactic standard year today, Kylo.”

Kylo felt the guilt pulling at his chest. He’d been so wrapped up in his work that he had forgotten completely. He opened his mouth to speak, to apologize, but Hux laid two fingers over his lips.

“I’m not upset you didn’t remember,” Hux said. “You’ve had other things on your mind. I don’t fault you.” His gaze grew warmer, softer. “I just wanted you to be here with me for it.”

Kylo moved his hands to Hux’s shoulders, gripping him there as if to make sure he was solid and not only a holo projection, as he was when Kylo was away. They commed back and forth regularly. They each wanted to know the other was all right, and to exchange one of those wordless looks that conveyed how both  felt the distance between them. It made their reunions all the better.

“Come,” Hux said, taking him by the gloved hand. “Let’s have something to eat.”

The table was laid out resplendently, with all the dishes Kylo liked, from poached fish to seared steaks. After the initial batch of indulgent supplies Snoke had procured for them right after they had been married ran out, they had made do with some of the more standard rations. Kylo had suffered without complaint, and Hux had played at being unaffected, but the next time they stopped off at a well-stocked port, the fare improved significantly. Kylo never brought it up to Hux, and Hux said nothing about it. From then on, they were kept in good food.

“How long have you been planning this?” Kylo asked as he sat at his end of the table and removed his gloves.

“A few months,” Hux replied, picking up his wine glass and taking a sip. “Imagine my annoyance when I found out you’d be gone _right_ before it.”

Kylo sucked his teeth, unsurprised that Hux hadn’t stopped him from going, but also frustrated that he hadn’t. “You could have said something.”

Hux shrugged one shoulder. “I would have ruined the surprise.” He gestured to the plate nearest Kylo. “Try something. It should still be warm.”

As Kylo served himself a spoonful of mashed tubers with rich white gravy, he wondered if this had been all Hux’s doing or if his master had had some hand in it. He didn’t speak as often to Snoke as he once had, though he was summoned from time to time back to the _Supremacy_ for an audience. Snoke was pleased that his plans had gone so well, and that Kylo and Hux had proved to be far more effective leaders together than apart. He could tell, too, that there was genuine affection between them, slow as it had been to develop. Kylo never denied it, but he never called it for what it was, either. If Snoke really wanted to know how much Kylo cared for his husband, he could have plucked it right out of his head.

“The Supreme Leader sent his congratulations to me earlier,” Hux said, reading Kylo in that uncanny way of his. “Did he contact you?”

Kylo shook his head, chewing and swallowing before he spoke. “I’m sure he thought you would remind me.”

Hux snorted. “Yes, well, I do keep your schedule at times. However”—his tone grew icier—“I thought he might make more of an effort to lord over us how right he was, and always is.”

From what Kylo had told him of Snoke’s punishing training over the years, he had formed a kind of grudge against the Supreme Leader. He believed Snoke was deliberately holding Kylo back from mastering his talents with the Force in order to control him. Kylo didn’t necessarily disagree—he had always known Snoke was leading him down a certain path—but it didn’t sit as uneasily with him as it seemed to with Hux.

Once Kylo had asked if Hux hated thinking Snoke controlled him more than Hux himself did, and that’s what was bothering him. Hux had vehemently denied that he had any kind of power over what Kylo did, but both of them knew he was lying. Kylo did what he chose, and yet when Hux wanted something done, he usually took care of it without hesitation. He didn’t hate being guided, either. Maybe that was a side effect of his years with Snoke: he required direction from someone else. Even if it was true, Hux didn’t abuse the ability; his orders were strong suggestions, to which Kylo could assent or not. Kylo appreciated that about their arrangement.

“He knows we know,” said Kylo. “That’s probably better in his mind than actually dragging me aside and making a show of it.” He stabbed a wax bean with his fork. “He’s aware of my gratitude.”

“‘Gratitude,’” Hux said. “Is that really what you feel?”

Kylo peered across the table at him, taking in his bright hair and vibrant jacket, the familiar juts and then the soft lines of his face. “Do you think I shouldn’t be grateful for what we have?”

“I didn’t mean that, exactly,” Hux said. “I hadn’t quite thought of it in those terms. He didn’t do it because he thought we’d suit. It was convenient. Should we really be grateful for that?”

“Whatever his reasons,” Kylo said, “we still ended up in this place. We owe this to him.”

Hux looked down at his plate in perturbed contemplation. “Do you think that if we were given the choice and just assigned this co-commandership without the vows, that we might have come to this of our own volition?”

Kylo had thought of that before, more times that he liked to admit. He had wondered if their closeness was only a product of necessity to live peacefully together. If they had had the opportunity, they might have chosen other people. Kylo hated the thought of Hux with someone else—so much so that it would come to murder if anyone dared try. But maybe Hux was only with him because he had to be to keep the peace.

“I don’t know,” Kylo said in earnest. “It’s possible we could still be at each other’s throats on the bridge right now if we had only been assigned to the ship. And we wouldn’t have known each other growing up.”

“I wonder if that would have been for the best,” said Hux. “We might have gotten on better with a clean slate upon meeting.”

Kylo’s grip tightened on his knife. He had hated those weeks together as boys, but as they had come to care for each other over the past year, he had looked back on them more fondly. But memory grew hazy and changed with time; he might have been deceiving himself.

“Why are you asking this?” he said sharply. “What do you want me to say?”

Hux sighed, setting down his cutlery. “I’m a fool. You’re not going to leave me and I know that, but I... _fear_ from time to time that our attachment is artificial because our fate was sealed before we even knew each other’s names.”

“You’re not the only one who’s thought about that,” Kylo said. He rose from his chair and went to Hux’s, crouching beside him and taking his hand. “Both the ancient Jedi and the Sith believed that some things were governed by the will of the Force. It’s not exactly fate in the definition you’re thinking of, but it’s preordained, in a way. Two energies are drawn to each other, sometimes across immense space and time, if they’re meant to unite. Maybe Snoke pushed us together, but maybe it was the will of the Force.”

Hux, cheeks pink, brushed the backs of his fingers along Kylo’s jaw. “I used the think the Force was imagined, but seeing you use it has taught me otherwise. That things are preordained is hard for me to believe, but, in this case, I want to.”

“There could have been infinite possibilities for how we got here, Hux,” Kylo said. “None of them matter when we have this reality. I doesn’t matter to me the way we arrived at this moment, as long as we’re in it right now.”

Hux had to bend awkwardly at the waist, but he managed to kiss him. Kylo could taste the wine on his tongue. As they parted, Hux tipped his head at Kylo’s chair and he went and sat back down. They resumed eating, both of them more content.

When they had had their fill, Hux sent for the droids to clean up. Kylo went to their bedroom to change his clothes, Hux following shortly after.

Kylo stopped him as he began to undo the buttons of his dinner jacket. “Not yet. I want to look at you for longer.”

Hux laughed. “I could take a holo, if you like.”

“Actually,” Kylo said, “that’s not a bad idea.”

Hux’s brow creased and he tugged at the hem of the jacket self-consciously. “You’re serious?”

“Is there a reason why not?” asked Kylo.

“I suppose not.”

“Then come this way.”

Kylo drew him back out into the common room, positioning him with his desk at his side, almost in profile, but with his head turned toward Kylo. Though Kylo was sure he wouldn’t like it, Kylo retrieved one of the flimsi tomes from his cabinet and placed it, open, in Hux’s hands. He summoned a droid to capture the image. Hux wasn’t smiling, but Kylo didn’t want him to; he wanted a true likeness, which was stern and cool and beautiful.

When the droid had gone, Kylo retrieved his datapad, where he found the image file already waiting for him. Hux glanced at it over his shoulder.

“It’s not so bad,” Hux admitted.

Kylo brought up the image’s metadata and keyed in the galactic standard date. On the next line: _Colonel Armitage Hux, on the anniversary of his wedding._

“Far too much sentiment, Kylo,” Hux said.

Kylo took the tome from him and set it down on his desk along with his datapad. He took Hux into his arms and kissed him. “You want one of me?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Hux groused. “Of course I do.”

 

* * *

 

**Armitage: Age Thirty**

Laying the plans took years and some considerable testing of Captain Phasma’s allegiance before they could be carried out. Hux had known she favored him over his father, but was it so much so that she would be the instrument of his demise? It turned out that she did, and she was willing to be. She procured the beetle herself and set it on his person. Hux was purposefully not on the same ship when the news arrived that General Brendol Hux had died a very gelatinous death in the medbay.

There had been a ceremony—an ejection of an empty coffin pod into space—and Hux had attended with Ren at his side. His husband had asked nothing about the unusual manner of Brendol’s death, but Hux could sense that he suspected foul play. Many people did, but Hux and Phasma had ensured that nothing could be traced back to them. Hux maintained the utmost sobriety as he heard from high command that he would soon be elevated to the rank of general to fill his father’s place. The celebratory drink he waited to have until he and Ren returned to the _Finalizer_.

“How did you do it?” Ren asked as he sank down onto the blue sofa next to Hux, their thighs touching.

Hux sipped at his drink. “Do what?”

“Don’t,” said Ren. “You know exactly what I mean.”

Wetting his lips, Hux kept his gaze on the holoprojector instead of looking at Ren. “A rare insect. It wasn’t dignified, but he didn’t deserve that.”

Ren was quiet for a time, until Hux turned to him, questioning.

“Do you feel better for it?” Ren said.

Hux considered, but then replied, “Yes. I had no love for him, as you well know. And his time was over. He was old-fashioned and outdated. The role is rightfully mine.”

Ren rested his hand on Hux’s knee, massaging it gently. “I’ll be behind you. Still my master’s apprentice while you’re the general you should be.”

Hux understood the implication clearly. “Deposing him is treason.”

“Yes.”

“Did you always know it would have to be that way?”

Ren’s fingers tightened at Hux’s knee. “Some Sith used to kill their masters to show they were strong enough to take their places. I’m no Sith, but the thoughts have been there for years. I don’t expect him to step down and let me ascend in his place.”

“No,” said Hux. “I don’t see that, either.” He shifted so he could touch Ren’s cheek. “If you need my help, I’ll do anything I can.”

“I won’t put you in that kind of danger,” Ren said. “I’ll take care of it myself, if it comes to that.”

Hux kissed him lightly. “When,” he murmured.

“When,” said Ren.

In bed that night, Ren lay on his back and wrapped his thick legs around Hux’s waist as Hux fucked him. When he was conflicted, he often sought the comfort of Hux inside him—ceding most of his control and letting Hux do as he pleased. Hux didn’t, of course; he did what Ren liked, which he had learned a great deal about in the years of their union. Ren made broken, needy sounds as Hux reared back to let him stroke his own cock while Hux thrust, the slap of their skin loud in their hushed quarters.

When they were finished, Ren tucked his head into the crook of Hux’s neck and just breathed until he was sleeping. Hux lay awake for some time after, holding him close and feeling the familiar low-burning hatred for what Snoke was doing to him. Ren played it off as if it wasn’t detrimental, but Hux could see how it restricted him. He could be so much more if Snoke were to have an accident like Brendol had. To kill a Force-user, though, required something more than dispatching a fat old military man long past his prime.

They didn’t speak of it the next morning, instead resuming their usual routine, which was unchanged since the first day after they had been wed. However, Hux was to meet with the high commanders that afternoon and receive his promotion. There was no particular fuss about it; he got the new bars on his uniform and was given the appropriate privileges and then sent to work. Still, he felt different in the aftermath and thought—perhaps imagined—that the crewmen on the bridge regarded him with even greater respect and deference than before.

Ren left the ship on some quest a few days later. Their quarters were empty without him and Hux found that he spent a great deal more time out of them when Ren was absent. Phasma chided him for not getting enough sleep; he mostly ignored her. Ren would chastise him for it when he inevitably noticed upon his return, but it usually meant Ren would rub him down with sweet-scented oil and then wash it from his skin in the shower before taking him to bed to rest. Hux thrived on the attention, though he would never admit that to anyone but himself. However, he was fairly sure the one person who needed to already understood.

Ren returned to the _Finalizer_ unexpectedly abused. Though he disliked the medbay, Hux forced him to go there and have the blaster wound in his shoulder tended to. Hux refused to let him into their bed until it was clean and bandaged. Ren was surly but too exhausted to fight him on the matter. He slept with Hux curled around him that night, but he woke up refreshed an hour before he usually rose to meditate.

“Hux,” he murmured, nuzzling Hux’s neck and pressing sweet kisses to the skin. “Wake up.”

Hux blinked himself into awareness, just able to make out Ren’s outline in the darkness of their bedroom. “What is it? All you all right?”

Ren laid a hand on his belly, softly rubbing down to the edge of Hux’s pubic hair. It was easy enough to discern his purpose.

Hux, lying on his back, stretched out to give Ren better access to his body, which Ren was more than happy to take advantage of. He stroked Hux’s sides and teased his nipples to make sure he was aroused before he touched his cock.

“Will you fuck me?” Ren asked as he stroked his large hand up and down Hux’s erection.

“If that’s what you want,” Hux replied.

“It is.”

Ren rolled to the bedside table and produced the lubricant, which he handed to Hux. He tossed the sheet aside and, bringing the illuminators to ten percent, got onto his hands and knees, presenting his ass. Hux rose up behind him and fondly petted his right buttock and then the left. He bent down and gave the flesh a bite, making Ren groan. With wet fingers, he traced the cleft, stopping at Ren’s entrance and circling it with his forefinger. He could feel the flex and give of the muscles beneath: Ren preparing himself. He was so receptive, as if his body craved being filled. It made Hux yearn for him powerfully.

Slipping one and then two fingers into Ren, Hux massaged him. He didn’t need much by way of loosening, but he enjoyed the ritual of fingers before Hux’s cock. And Hux enjoyed it, too: caressing the soft insides of him, feeling how he tightened and gave as Hux pressed on his prostate. In fact, Hux was in the mood to give him that before he fucked him. With insistant pressure, he began to rub that most sensitive of spots. The sound Ren made was more than indication enough that he was willing to let Hux do this.

Hux settled back on his feet, holding Ren by the hip with one hand while he used the fingers of the other to stimulate him. Ren’s thighs trembled and he moaned into his folded arms, his face buried in them.

“More,” he said, muffled. “Please, Hux. Harder.”

“Patience,” Hux chided, though he did apply more pressure, curling his fingers until Ren cried out. He could feel the heat radiating from Ren’s body, the first sign of his building pleasure. Easing his hand around, Hux encircled Ren’s testicles with his fingers, tugging ever so slightly, as Ren liked. “You’re so lovely, Kylo,” he said. “All your strength is under my hands, strangely delicate when you’re like this.”

“I’m not delicate,” Ren growled. “ _Don’t_ be gentle with me.”

Hux laughed lightly, giving Ren’s testicles a firm pull. “I would never.” Renewing his efforts, he pushed his fingers in and out of Ren. His own cock was hard and aching, more than ready to slip inside, but he would wait until Ren went over the edge. And then Hux would make him come again while he fucked him, this time with a hand around his cock.

From the corner of the room, a glass object shook and slid off the edge of a shelf, shattering on the floor. Hux didn’t let it deter him; he had gotten used to Ren’s occasional surges of Force power as he lost control during sex. Ren said it was something he had learned to prevent when he was younger, but when Hux really had him in the throes, that ability slipped. The prostate orgasms usually did it.

Ren was saying Hux’s name in a repetitive litany now, pushing his hips back hungrily to bring Hux’s fingers in hard and deep. Hux gave him all that he wanted until the illuminators flickered and a painting that Ren had hung on the wall slid down to the floor, cracking the wooden frame. Ren barked an almost pained cry and jerked with the shocks of the orgasm. Hux stroked him through it, until he had quieted and was only gently shaking with the effort of holding himself up.

Withdrawing his fingers, Hux said, “Lie down, Kylo.”

Ren collapsed down onto his belly with a tremendous sigh, boneless and sated. Hux took the lubricant and slickened his cock, lining himself up to enter. Ren parted his legs so Hux could lie between them and then lower himself onto Ren’s back. It was a lazy position, but one they both enjoyed. Despite the significant difference in their size, Ren sometimes wanted to be covered and enveloped as much as Hux could manage. It was uncharacteristically tender for them, a mood Hux only indulged when he was feeling the most generous.

Ren’s body took him in easily as he slid in to the hilt. Hux lowered himself down until his head was nearly beside Ren’s, their cheeks almost touching. He told Ren how good he felt and Ren hummed in response, urging him to move.

Hux started slowly, appreciating every centimeter of how deep he could get. He couldn’t imagine going without this; he wasn’t certain how he could have resolved not to back when they were first married. They fit together well and had learned how to please each other in all the ways they might want to. It wasn’t a solemn sentence to be monogamous, as Hux could once have thought. He and Ren took good care of each other, and Hux could not have asked for more than that from his spouse.

Hux wasn’t as sensitive in the mornings, and it took him some fifteen minutes to come, but Ren made his approving noises throughout, telling Hux to use him and take what he needed. When Hux spent himself inside of him, Ren shuddered and groaned, tightening his muscles around Hux’s cock. Hux drew in a sharp breath, overstimulated, but then kissed Ren’s shoulder.

They went to the shower to clean up, but Hux made sure to get Ren hard and bring him off with his mouth before they got out. Together, they dressed—Ren in his robes and Hux in his general’s uniform.

“Do you like your command?” Ren asked as he stole bites of Hux’s breakfast some minutes later.

“I do,” Hux replied. “It’s the place I’m meant to be.”

Ren cupped the back of his neck and drew him in to bump their foreheads together. “And I’m at your side.”

Hux smiled. “It’s my honor to have you there.”        

 

* * *

 

**Armitage: Age Thirty-Four**

At last, it was the culmination of all of his work: the long, toiling nights spent poring over plans and conversations with the foremen of the various details that had slowly and steadily built his Starkiller Base. He had been installed in its comfortable staff quarters for several months as it was finally brought online. Ren had joined him there at times, but he still spent most of his days aboard the _Finalizer_. Despite the wearing of the separation, Hux thrived on his work. Ren respected and understood his drive to oversee his greatest achievement—even more impressive than his legacy with the Stormtrooper Program.

Hux stood now behind the vivid red curtain emblazoned with the insignia of the First Order, waiting to go out onto the platform that had been raised for his speech. The troopers based on Starkiller had been assembled to hear it and to witness the firing of the weapon. Hux knew the speech by heart; he had written and practiced it for weeks just for this moment. He could not falter in front of so many. Or in front of Ren.

He had come down from the _Finalizer_ to be at Hux’s side, a front united. For once, his robes were freshly laundered and didn’t smell of the ozone of his lightsaber. His face was bare for the moment, but he had his helmet under his arm, ready to be donned as soon as he stepped out into view. Hux had asked him only once why we wore it at all.

“It’s armor like any other,” he had told Hux then. “And it’s intimidating. People fear a man in a mask more than one who looks like I do.”

Hux had eyed him curiously. “And what do you look like, Ren?”

“Unusual,” Ren had replied.

It wasn’t something Hux could or would counter; Ren’s look _was_ different, his features singular. That had endeared him to Hux over the years, as Hux had learned the contours of his face, having touched them with both fingers and lips. He could have drawn the spots on his skin from memory, and he knew the micro-expressions that betrayed when Ren was in a mood or if he was upset and yet stifling the feelings.

Ren had been told to let his emotions flow through him as a boy—rage a source of power—but since he had been married to Hux, he had learned that sometimes it paid to control himself. Hux appreciated that, being a controlled man himself, but he could see that it took a heavy toll on Ren. When it was considerable enough to be noticeable, Hux either went with him to the gym and told him to let out the rage while he watched or he shoved him into their bedroom and let him fuck out whatever was bothering him. In either case, after, Ren usually confided the cause of his snit, which did much more to relieve the upset than exercise—whether with his saber or in their bed.

“And,” Ren had said when Hux had remained quiet, “I like that you’re one of the only people who sees me.”

“Meaning I’m worthy enough?” Hux had asked.

Ren had shaken his head. “Meaning that I trust you enough.”

Hux had petted his soft hair fondly. “I appreciate that, Kylo. And you have my trust as well.”

On Starkiller now, he was lurking by Hux’s side, tense; he didn’t like public appearances like this. Hux yearned for them, and Ren understood that he was part of the image Hux needed to present, so he did what was expected of him.

Turning to him, Hux took his gloved left hand in his own. “Thank you for this,” he said. “I’ve worked half my life for this.”

“I know,” said Ren. “I’m proud of you. You’re about to destroy the entire New Republic and show our true might. You are our greatest weapon, not Starkiller.”

Hux chuckled. “We are one and the same. But thank you. I’ve striven my entire career to make myself indispensable to the First Order, and I believe I have actually have done it. Though”—he hesitated—“now that the weapon is built, there is no need for me anymore.” Wryly: “Perhaps I should retire.”

Ren’s mouth curled up into a clever, disbelieving smile. “You’d have someone space you before you quit working. And there will always be a use for you.” His dark brown eyes hardened. “There will come a time when you’ll be my right hand. I won’t do it without you.”

Hux sobered. They had not talked about Snoke’s eventual fall in some years, but it hung between them perpetually—actions waiting to be taken in tandem. “I’ll always be beside you, Kylo,” he said. “We may not always agree, but if it’s your side or anyone else’s, I will _always_ choose you.”

“I know,” Ren said softly, the leather of his glove creaking against Hux’s. “It won’t be long. You’re at your strongest and I’m...nearly at mine. I have my final ties to the Light to sever and then I’ll be truly free to embrace my greatest power.” He had said something of this before, but only little.

“What ties?” Hux asked.

Ren’s breath fogged in the icy air. “My family legacy ends with me. Snoke took me from them to put an end to it.”

Hux, concerned, blinked at him. “And you think he’s right in this? You’ve not always agreed with him, and neither have I.”

“This time, yes,” Ren told him. “Rebel blood flows in my veins and while I can never change that, I can declare myself fully to the Order by cutting them down.” He looked pained for a moment, and Hux recognized his control of himself.

Hux laid a hand on his cheek. “Tell me.”

“My mother leads the Resistance. To stop it, we have to destroy her.”

A rush of hot hatred sizzled in Hux’s gut. Leia Organa was the Order’s truest and most immediate enemy. Ren’s lineage had never affected them so directly.

“We’ll do that,” Hux said, as sure of that as anything he had ever sworn. “Together.”

Ren’s gratitude was plain, and Hux stroked his cheekbone with his thumb.

“Come, now,” Hux began. “Let’s put an end to the Republic: a great blow to Organa and a first step toward your liberation from the Light.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Ren’s winter-cold lips.

Side by side, they went out onto the stage to the cheers of the First Order.

 

* * *

 

**Kylo: Age Thirty**

When the opportunity to take what was rightfully his finally presented itself to him, Kylo was on his knees before the master who had raised and trained him but in so doing had made him a slave to his designs. Kylo wanted to be free, and as he knelt before Snoke in his throne room aboard the _Supremacy_ , he saw his chance and acted.

As the broken halves of his master had fallen away, Kylo had used the scavenger girl to seize power. He had no real interest in bringing her to the Order’s cause; she never would have come, anyway. She had been a convenient tool which he had wielded as keenly as Snoke had ever wielded him. He hadn’t expected her to knock him unconscious and flee, but when he had come to, Hux was crouched beside him with gentle hands on his face, urging him to wake up. There was no face Kylo would rather have seen in that moment. He surged up, grabbing Hux by the back of the neck, and kissed him hard.

“It’s done,” Hux said when they parted. His gaze tracked to where Snoke’s severed body had been abandoned amidst the red-armored guards. “You did it.”

Kylo said, his voice stronger than he would have expected, “It was high time.”

“And the girl?”

“Gone. We’ll find her again.”

“I have no doubt.” Hux pushed Kylo’s damp and ash-filled hair back from his brow. “Supreme Leader.”

To hear it in his sharp, ex-Imperial accent struck Kylo at his core, solidifying it all for him. He _was_ the Supreme Leader; the Order was his at last. _Theirs_. It was all theirs.

Together they tracked the Resistance survivors to Crait, where Kylo found the specter of his uncle and so too felt him pass away into the energy of the Force. At last Kylo was free of him, as he was free of his father. Now only his mother remained—and the scavenger girl, whom he would destroy without question.

It took far longer than he might have hoped, but in the meantime he and Hux took command of the Order and began to exact their long-laid plans for it. The _Supremacy_ was repaired as best it could be, but they led from the _Finalizer_ , which felt more like their home. They had shared their quarters there for years; it belonged to them indelibly.

Kylo didn’t kill her, when the time came. It was Hux who took the shot, hitting her in the heart and knocking her back in stumbling steps. She fell into the scavenger’s arms and Kylo watched the life leave her while she looked at the girl with more affection than she had ever shown to him. The bitter rage burned inside him and he had charged the girl. They had fought over Leia Organa’s body, but in the end, Kylo broke her.

The rest of the them were snuffed out, too, but disposed of with some manner of respect. Kylo didn’t come when they ejected the pods into open space. Hux oversaw it and then returned to their quarters to find Kylo with sprawled on the sofa with a rare glass of brandy. Hux had made him pour the rest of it over Hux’s belly and lick it off. The sex after had been animal, unforgiving. They had both left their bed with bruises.

No one dared cross them after the destruction of the New Republic. They had lost the Starkiller weapon, much to Hux’s dismay, but they had succeeded in ending a useless government. Kylo dared not think of himself as a new emperor, but he had to accept that he was the galaxy’s new steward, until a hierarchy of governance could he established. He bore the title because he to, but most of the administration fell to Hux, his Grand Marshal. He appointed ministers and governors to the various Order-controlled planets, making sure they were all fiercely loyal to the cause.

It was a tiring and involved business, and weighed heavily on him. He had seemingly boundless energy, however. Only in the sanctity of their quarters did he show his exhaustion. Kylo made sure he ate and slept and showered, sometimes carrying him to bed or the ‘fresher and bathing him himself. They were only tender in their privacy, but everyone in the galaxy knew they cherished each other.

And it was true. Kylo’s affection had only deepend, blooming into something singular and devoted. Watching Hux work was intoxicating. Kylo would never have expected that his competence would be something that made Kylo want to strip him down in the newly restored throne room on the _Supremacy_ and have him on the throne itself. He did, too, more than once. Hux had protested at first, never an exhibitionist, but when Kylo had shoved his trousers down and buried his face in Hux’s ass, his resistance stopped. Their noises of pleasure had echoed in the chamber, surely heard by the guards outside. Kylo didn’t care and, by the time they were finished and he had come hard across his own belly, Hux didn’t either.

This cycle, they had been apart, Hux working on some diplomatic arrangements with his new lieutenants and Kylo hearing various petitions from subjugated worlds. They certainly didn’t call them that outside of their own quarters, but it was what they were, undoubtedly. When it was all finished, Kylo returned to the _Finalizer_ to drill with the knights. They still went planetside in military operations, much to Hux’s consternation.

“If you die, I’m not crowing myself Supreme Leader,” he had told Kylo firmly one evening before Kylo had meant to leave for a mission. “And you have no successor.”

“Is that your way of saying we need to adopt one?” Kylo asked.

Hux had considered for a moment. “It’s not outside the realm of possibility. A product of the Hux line, I’m hopeless with children. And you…” He cocked an eyebrow.

Kylo had laughed.

“But I’d rather raise someone up to the title rather than entrusting it to one of our current subordinates,” Hux had continued, pacing their quarters.

Kylo had grabbed him by the shoulders and said, “Someday, not now. We’re in our prime. And I won’t die in the field. You know I can take care of myself.”

Hux sighed and laid a hand on Kylo’s cheek. “Despite that fact, I’m concerned.”

“Always planning ahead, Grand Marshal,” said Kylo. “We’ll worry about it later. And, if you’re really taking issue with dealing with children, that’s what nanny droids are for. I was basically raised by one.”

“And look how you turned out, Ren.”

Kylo had let the subject lie there and stormed off to his command shuttle. The mission had gone perfectly well, as expected. When Kylo came back, he rubbed Hux’s nose in his success—and his more hidden places. The fire for each other had not dimmed overmuch; as Kylo said, they were still in their prime.

Drained after training, Kylo went to shower in the private ‘fresher. He took his time washing his hair and them combing it when he was out. Most days he dried it, but for now he let it hang wet on his bare shoulders. He ordered dinner for himself and for Hux. Though Hux worked hard throughout every cycle, he always came back for dinner together.

Kylo was sitting with his datapad at his desk when he arrived, looking harried in his red and black marshal’s uniform. He had designed it himself, a talent Kylo had not known he had. It was still as simple as his uniform, but the fabric was matte rather than slick and shining, and he wore a sash over his shoulder and across his chest. It looked good on him—good enough that Kylo wanted to take it off as much as he enjoyed seeing it on.

Once, despite Hux’s protests, Kylo had made him wear _only_ the sash for dinner. Hux had made Kylo wear nothing to their next meal—which had been hot soup; very dangerous for Kylo’s exposed skin. He had managed not to scald himself, but barely.

“There you are,” Kylo said, getting to his feet and intercepting Hux before he could go anywhere else. He caught him around the waist and drew him in for a kiss. Whereas it was usually a brief peck, Hux went into it hungrily, wrapping his arms around Kylo’s neck and pushing his tongue into his mouth.

Kylo asked when they parted, “Frisky?”

Hux wound a damp bit of hair around his forefinger, tugging lightly at Kylo’s scalp. “I had to attend a wedding of state today. There was some kind of fertility ritual after, and it was...affecting.”

“A ceremony riled you up?” said Kylo, smiling to himself.

Hux gave a gruff, “Yes. Do you want to fuck me or not?”

Kylo stroked his back, down to his buttock, which he squeezed. “Can we please eat first? I’m starving.”

“Oh, very well,” Hux conceded. “Only because you’ll rush the sex if you aren’t fed.”

“You know me too well.”

They went together into the dining room, where a meal had been laid out. It wasn’t overly elaborate, which Kylo appreciated. If Hux wanted to get to bed fast, it was better they could eat quickly.

“What did this ritual consist of?” Kylo said as he broke off a piece of bread and buttered it.

“A dance, mostly,” Hux replied, “but they had some kind of incense that made the place smokey and heady and...it was sensuous. I’m glad you weren’t there.”

Kylo raised his eyebrows. “No?”

Hux shook his head. “I would have embarrassed myself. You know we don’t make a public spectacle of our marriage.”

“We could,” said Kylo. “If you wanted to.”

“What do you mean?” asked Hux, clearly skeptical.

Kylo wasn’t always quick to voice thoughts like these: ones that were uncharacteristically possessive. Hux didn’t take kindly to being owned; he was always his own man, and Kylo had always respected that.

“We never held a public union,” he said carefully. “A ceremony, I mean. It was just understood that we were together. We could...do something more.”

Hux paused in eating, his fork hovering above his plate. “How long have you been thinking of this?”

Kylo averted his eyes. “A few years, but now that the Order is ours, we would do whatever we wanted. And...it’s not something we’re ashamed of, anymore.”

Setting down his fork, Hux said, “I was never ashamed of you, Kylo. Certainly I didn’t want this to begin with, but you were never something shameful. And I hope I was not, either.”

“Never.” Kylo offered a small smile.

“Good,” said Hux. He took a sip of wine. “When would you want to do this ceremony?”

Kylo perked up, never having expected him to agree to it—well, _maybe_ agree to it. “The timing doesn’t really matter. You can plan for as long as you want.”

Hux huffed a laugh. “At least you know by now that I would be the one doing the planning.”

“You like to be in control of the details. I’ll go along with whatever you say.”

“Even if it was your idea?”

“If you do it,” Kylo said, “that’s all that matters to me.”

Hux sighed softly. “Why do you want it?”

Kylo had to tread carefully, but he also couldn’t lie. “I want the galaxy to know you’re mine, and I’m yours.” He blinked, cautious. “You know I am...yours?”

“Yes,” Hux said. “I’ve known for a long time.” He smiled, sly but warm. “I assume you want me to say that I belong to you, too.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Kylo admitted.

Hux’s smile widened. “I do, Kylo. My body, my mind, my heart: all yours.”

The elation was more brilliant that Kylo would ever have imagined. Rising from his chair, he went to Hux. He was on his feet too, and Kylo embraced him.

“My husband,” he murmured in Hux’s ear.

Hux nuzzled his cheek. “My love.”

 

**Fin**


End file.
